


Grand Theft Hydra

by eidheann, firethesound



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (I mean it has some Civil War compliance, (because there's a train), (with love), 5+1 Things, Also handwavey compliance through Civil War, Angst, Apparent Main Character Death, Background Steve/Peggy - Freeform, Banter, But he kinda learns to drive, Car Chases, Comedically large numbers of unattached dicks, Explosions, Guilt, Howard Stark's sense of humor, Howling Commandos - Freeform, Humor, Hydra, Infidelity, Kinda, M/M, Marvel levels of handwavey "historical accuracy", No one should ever listen to Steve's bad ideas, POV: Multiple, Pining, Smut, Steve and Bucky have no boundaries, They steal each other's food and drink it's a thing, authors are probably too fond of dick jokes, but I changed some things as well), characters are assholes to each other, or let him drive a car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8150224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eidheann/pseuds/eidheann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/firethesound/pseuds/firethesound
Summary: Featuring Steve's horrible driving, worse plans, and how everyone is left to deal with him - or - 5 times Steve stole a car to get away from trouble and 1 time he didn't need to.





	1. Tentacles and Disappointment

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is where I ashamedly say this is a failed Stucky Big Bang 2016. It's complete now, but was way beyond cut off.
> 
> Huge thanks for the support from the SBB mods, [firethesound](http://archiveofourown.org/users/firethesound/pseuds/firethesound) (who wrote a lot of the best parts of the first two chapters and brainstormed this thing LIKE A BOSS), [capitu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/capitu/pseuds/capitu) and [lauren3210](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lauren3210/pseuds/lauren3210) for prereading and betaing, and [littleblackfox](http://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackfox/pseuds/littleblackfox) and [blithelybonny](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blithelybonny/pseuds/blithelybonny) for always being ready to shake their pompoms at me.
> 
> I love you all <3

The problem was, this entire thing had been a cock-up from the start. Their information had been utterly wrong, which meant either their informant was an idiot or not actually on their side, and now Steve and Peggy were stuck in a tiny, practically nameless town in the middle of German occupied territory. 

No, that was not the problem. The problem was that the area wasn't German, it was Hydra. Which just made everything more complicated.

And while Peggy was going down her mental list of people she was going to have a very stern talking to about this when they got back, because they _were_ going to make it back, she added the rain. Because it wasn't enough to be stuck risking life and limb, surrounded by people trying to kill them, but they had to be cold and wet and miserable while doing it.

Steve huffed out a breath, blowing the rain dripping down his face away from his nose, and attempted once more to wedge himself into the space between the steering wheel and front seat of the open German Kübelwagen. It was rather endearing, in an overly-large _Steve_ sort of way.

Peggy was tucked much more neatly into the wheel well beside him, carefully ensuring that the muzzle of her pistol was the only thing visible over the side, though the drenching rain and darkness provided more cover than their position.

"You sure you want _me_ doing this?" Steve muttered for the fifth time. 

Peggy rolled her eyes. She kept her voice carefully quiet, though she couldn't mask the impatience in every clipped word. "Most efficient use of resources. I'm not Barnes, but I'm still a much better shot than you, just like the last time you asked. And thanks to the serum, you can actually see the wire colors in this miserable dark. Now kindly shut it and let me know when you've got the bloody console open."

Steve grinned, and she had come to know him well enough to be certain it was due to Peggy's obvious aggravation. And because he could never leave well enough alone, Steve had to counter, "Can't see the colors if I can't get in here to see the wires."

Peggy opened her mouth to tell him exactly what he could do to squeeze down there but was silenced by a sudden burst of laughter up the street. They both startled slightly, Peggy's focus swerving directly toward the sound. A movement, barely visible through the wet and dark, but she made three figures approaching. 

Steve placed a gentle hand on her back, and she swallowed, most of her attention still on the shadows ahead. "Pull both red," she began, words barely more than a breath, trusting in Steve's hearing, "then cross yellow with black. Be ready to go."

"Right," Steve huffed under his breath. "Be ready to go." He blew another drop off his nose and ducked down tighter, back and shoulders flexing visibly as he attempted to maneuver.

The trio laughed again, and Peggy pressed closer to the door, attempting to maintain her line of sight without being visible herself. "Hurry, please. I think this might be their car."

She could hear Steve mutter briefly under his breath, and the three, definitely three, were nearly on them. "Steve…." 

The engine caught and turned over, and Peggy ducked down at a shout and a bullet sang by overhead. “In!” she ordered. “You’re driving.” The last person to have driven this car had undoubtedly been taller than her, so it made sense for Steve to drive. Peggy swung herself up into the passenger seat as Steve clambered in behind the wheel. She turned back, one knee braced on the seat, and fired off a couple of shots through the darkness and rain, and received two return shots and a scream for her efforts.

Steve wrenched the car into gear and slammed down on the gas, and the car lurched forward like a whipped horse and nearly sent Peggy tumbling into the backseat.

“Hang on!” he said, full seconds too late to do her any good.

Peggy shot him a glare and ducked down as another couple of shots rang out. The engine roared as Steve steered them through the base, leaving the enemy behind them. Peggy knew it wouldn’t be that easy, and sure enough, there came the growl of another engine, soft with distance but steadily growing louder. Another car swung out onto the path behind them, one Hydra agent behind the wheel and a second balanced halfway out the passenger window with a gun in hand.

Peggy turned in her seat, carefully lining up a shot at their pursuers. Steve slammed on the brakes with no warning, and Peggy found herself quite suddenly in the footwell.

“Sorry,” Steve said, offering her a hand up as he swerved around something and stepped hard on the gas again.

“Hands on the wheel!” she shouted at him.

He put both hands back on the wheel just in time to swerve around a group of Hydra agents who’d just come out of a nearby building, guns drawn. Peggy clambered back up onto the seat and squeezed off another shot and one of them dropped, and then they were past. More shouting rose up behind them, and then the roar of engines. Another three jeeps had appeared on the dirt path behind them and were quickly gaining speed, and the original one had drawn very near.

“Hang on!” Steve said again, and Peggy braced herself in the seat.

They took a corner at a thoroughly unreasonable speed, the momentum pressing Peggy hard against the side of the car for long seconds. They straightened out and picked up speed, and she looked over her shoulder. The drivers behind them had taken the turn at a much more reasonable speed, and had fallen back. Steve aimed their car up the road, passed between two buildings, and out of the heart of the base. Now there was just a stretch of empty field between them and the fence hemming in the compound, and beyond that was the forest and freedom.

The jeep behind them had drawn close enough that it was back in range. Peggy fired off another two shots, and then a third. The gunman had tumbled out of the window with her second shot, and the headlights of a pursuing jeep had bounced up and down once very sharply, but she wasn’t sure whether she’d hit the driver for a few long moments. But then the jeep drifted off the dirt road and off into the field, headlights swaying wildly up and down as it bumped over grass.

“I’m out,” Peggy said, tucking her gun back into its holster.

Steve reached down to his holster and handed over his own gun. Peggy took it and turned around in her seat again, took careful aim at the next closest jeep, and fired.

“Shit,” said Steve, then, “Sorry, pardon my--”

Peggy turned around in time to see a large dark shape looming up ahead of them.

“Shit!” Peggy said as the barrel of the tank’s turret swung slowly around to face them. Steve kept driving straight at it. “Steve. Steve. Steve!”

“Hold on,” Steve said, still driving straight.

Peggy glanced back at the jeeps behind them, looked up at the tank, and then over at the determined look on Steve’s face.

She held on.

At the very last second, Steve twisted the wheel, sending them off the path just as the tank fired. The shell roared past and detonated behind them, turning the dirt road into a crater and sending the pursuing jeeps up in a fiery explosion of shrapnel. Hot metal shards pinged off the back of their car and a flaming tire arced by overhead, hit the ground and bounced off into the darkness, leaving patches of grass smoldering in its wake.

Steve cut the headlights, plunging them into total darkness, and Peggy discovered that Steve’s driving was even more terrifying when she couldn’t see where they were going. When she knew that _Steve_ couldn’t see where they were going. The car bounced wildly over every dip and bump in the field, and all around them was nothing but darkness. Behind them, Peggy could hear the clanking of the tank’s treads as it came around to follow them.

“We’ll draw him out here, then circle back around to the gate,” Steve said.

Once the tank had begun to follow them, Steve steered the car in a loose arc back toward the compound. In the distance, another three sets of headlights appeared as more cars joined the chase. They raced down the path, then across the field, fanning out in front of the slow-moving tank, headlights illuminating the grass in shallow fans before them. Flaming wreckage from the explosion loosely marked out where they needed to get back to.

“They’re going to figure out that we’ve turned,” Peggy warned, twisting in her seat to keep an eye on them.

“Then I guess we’d better get out of here fast,” Steve said. He glanced back at the tank, and Peggy could practically see him judging the distance it’d moved from the path, and the distance their car would have to travel to make it to the gate.

Several more cars coming from the compound made the decision for him. He spun the wheel and pressed down on the gas, and if Peggy hadn’t already braced herself in the seat, she likely would have gone tumbling.

The car was aimed more-or-less in the direction of the gate, but in the darkness it was impossible to tell where exactly it was. The fence was a flimsy thing, chain link topped with barbed wire that wouldn’t pose much of an obstacle to a speeding vehicle. But the deep ditch dug around it certainly would. The only way out was through the gate.

Peggy didn’t think that anyone would be able to hear the sound of their engine over this much distance, and over the sounds of their own engines and the racket of clanking tank treads, so it might just have been plain dumb luck that one of the cars peeled off from the rest and swung back around.

“Sh--oot,” Steve said.

He clicked the headlights back on, illuminating the field in front of them. They were closer to the road than Peggy had expected, but the pitch darkness had hidden just how fast they were going. The gate was _right there_ , but at the moment she was more concerned with several large rocks in their path. Going around them to the left would take them dangerously near the tank, which had begun to come around, and going right wasn’t an option due to the smoldering remains of the cars that had been blown to bits.

“Watch out for the--!”

“I see it!”

“ _Steve_ , there’s--!”

“I _see_ it,” Steve told her. He wrenched the wheel, and the left tires hit the smallest of the large rocks, bounced up, and the whole vehicle teetered on two wheels for a heartstopping second before slamming back down on all four. He gave her a sour look. “I’ve got perfect vision, you know.”

The car jounced back onto the path for the last short stretch before they crashed through the gate, wood splintering and debris flying up and clattering against the windshield.

“All right,” Peggy said, taking a deep breath and trying to slow the pounding of her heart through sheer willpower alone. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your perfect eyes on where we’re going, thanks.”

“I’m just saying,” he told her. “I’m, you know.” He took one hand off the wheel to gesture vaguely. “Genetically engineered to be the perfect soldier. I can see just fine.”

The car hurtled around a bend in the path, nearly drifting off into the forest that edged it, and Peggy couldn’t help the small, high sound of alarm as the front corner of the bumper missed the bark of a tree by inches.

“Perfect reflexes, too,” Steve continued, mostly to himself. “That was the whole point of the serum.”

Peggy was going to take those perfect reflexes and stuff them up his--

“Watch out!”

The narrow little bridge spanning a deep ravine looked barely big enough for their car to pass between the railings, but Steve didn’t hesitate. Peggy’s fingernails dug into the seat’s upholstery as Steve twitched the wheel to line them up, and then stomped down on the gas.

There was a jolt as the tires made the transition from dirt path to bridge, and then the clatter of wooden planks drowned out the roar of the engine. Peggy couldn’t tear her eyes away from how the front fenders passed between the bridge’s railings with barely two inches to spare on either side.

The only blessing was, with the speed at which Steve was driving, Peggy’s heart barely had time to lodge in her throat before they were hurtling clear of the bridge and back onto mercifully solid ground.

Peggy had all of five seconds to enjoy it before they careened around a bend in the road and suddenly found themselves facing an oncoming convoy. According to their intel, this particular Hydra base wasn’t scheduled for resupply until tomorrow night; evidently they were running ahead of schedule.

The first truck in the line slammed on its brakes, and there came a crash as one of the drivers behind him didn’t react fast enough. Steve slammed on the brakes, wheels skidding on the dirt path, slowing them just enough that he could aim his car safely between a pair of pine trees. Peggy’s life flashed before her eyes as both of the front fenders scraped tree bark on either side. Steve jerked the wheel right, then sharply left to avoid more trees. 

The commotion of their car crashing through the underbrush covered any sound of pursuit. Peggy glanced behind them, but couldn’t see anything through the darkness. No sign of pursuing headlights.

She turned back around in time to see Steve swerve to avoid a large rock, and a tree branch cracked across the windshield. Steve flinched instinctively away, jerking the wheel hard to the left, and nearly ran them straight into another tree. Peggy’s life continued to flash before her eyes.

It would be easier if she could shut her eyes, but Peggy Carter had never been one to bury her head in the sand and hope for the best. She kept her eyes open for every second of the harrowing journey back to base.

The long trip passed in a haze of terror, one near miss after another as Steve steered them through the forest, dodging each obstacle almost faster than Peggy could spot them. She was sure that her fingernails had left permanent marks with how hard she was holding on, and she had never before in her life known relief as she did when the lights of their base came into view. Steve swung their car into an empty space at the end of a row of jeeps and brought it to a lurching stop that nearly sent Peggy into the windshield.

There was a loud _clang!_ as Steve opened his door into the side of the jeep parked next to them. He’d parked too close to it and had to very awkwardly lever himself out of the car. Peggy watched as he shuffled sideways, shut his door, and then inspected the large dent on the side of the jeep.

Peggy flung open her door and hopped out, relishing the feel of her feet on solid, unmoving ground. She braced one hand against the side of the car and pressed the other to her head. Something poked at her palm, and she untangled a leafy twig from her hair, looked at it helplessly for a moment, then dropped it to the ground.

“Well that wasn’t so bad,” Steve said, coming around to her side.

“Wasn’t so…” she began, then stopped. Took a deep breath and weighed for a moment whether she really wanted an answer. She asked anyhow. “Steve, have you ever driven a vehicle before?”

He gave her a perfectly baffled look. “Of course not, Peg. When would I have? I’m from Brooklyn.”

Peggy stared at him. Opened her mouth. Shut her mouth. Shook her head, then turned around and walked away, leaving Steve standing behind her.

***

Bucky was halfway through his second beer when Steve slid into the seat next to him, swiped the mug and took a large swallow.

“Mission go that well?” Bucky asked, stealing his beer mug back.

“Huh? Oh, no. Just thirsty.” Steve twisted around in his seat to look at the bar, but the barman was busy. He turned back around. “Mission went fine. Peggy’s still debriefing, but they’re all through with me.”

Bucky frowned into his mug. "If it went that well, you owe me a beer for drinking most of mine."

"Half at most." Steve frowned then. "Only because it went okay?"

"You don't get sympathy for an easy in and out."

Steve made a face at that, the same sour lemon face he'd been making since he was ten, and Bucky let his own smirk grow.

"It was frustrating, if that helps." Steve shot him a hopeful look, glancing between Bucky's face and mug. "Rain. So much rain."

"Thought you looked a little damp. Rain. Such a problem." Bucky took a slow slurp of his beer, smacking his lips obnoxiously. "I feel so bad for you."

"You should!" Steve's focus was entirely on Bucky's beer, and Bucky felt his smirk grow. "Miserable trip. I thought I would catch pneumonia again." And then he gave a stupid little cough.

"Yeah, right." But Bucky straightened slightly, his heart rate accelerating even though he _knew_ the jerk was faking. He automatically catalogued the shade of Steve's cheeks, the glassiness of his eyes, the sound of his breathing, and then he gave Steve a shove to hide his relief. "Healthy as an overly-healthy horse." 

" _Overly-healthy horse?_ " Steve huffed out a laugh. " _That_ was the best you could do?"

"About as good as that fake cough of yours. Don't deserve my best." Bucky aimed a kick at Steve's shin, not bothering to pull it much. "My effort matched yours."

"Ow! You're an asshole." Steve rubbed his leg. "I don't have to put up with your bullshit, you know."

Bucky grinned in response. "I could say the same, but here we are. So you went and got wet, but not enough for pneumonia. And you're waiting for sympathy. I'm waiting for beer."

"Gonna keep waiting," Steve muttered, but then his eyes darted toward the door and he straightened abruptly. “Oh.”

Bucky followed Steve’s gaze to see what had distracted him, and saw Agent Carter striding her way across the pub, chin up and a look on her face that announced plain as day that someone was about to get chewed out. The tips of Steve’s ears were pinkening a little bit, and Bucky had the idea that maybe the mission hadn’t gone quite as smoothly as Steve had implied.

Steve stood up to greet her, just in time for her to poke him solidly in the chest with one perfectly polished red fingernail. Steve’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

“Tell me,” Carter snapped at him before he could manage to get a single word out. “Are you in possession of even one single, solitary ounce of self-preservation?”

Bucky snorted into his beer mug, barely resisting the urge to answer in the negative, and Steve had the decency to look moderately abashed.

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said very earnestly. “I am in possession of 175lbs of self-preservation. I could convert that into ounces, if you’d like, but it’ll take me a couple minutes, and I’d need a pencil.”

Carter stared him down, and Bucky suspected that Steve’s big blue eyes didn’t work any better on her than they did on himself. “You are in possession of 175lbs of self-preservation,” she repeated dubiously.

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said again. “That’s right.”

It took a long moment for it to click just what the hell Steve was talking about, but when it hit him, Bucky couldn’t hold back a soft huff of laughter.

“God help us all, if that’s the case,” Bucky muttered and knocked back the rest of his beer. “You’ve never listened to a single goddamn thing I’ve said. Ever.”

Steve nodded, still very earnest. “And you still keep trying, anyhow.”

“Don’t pick fights with guys twice your size, Steve,” Bucky said. “Don’t take that shortcut, Steve. Don't flap your fool mouth, Steve. Don’t join the army, Steve.”

“In my defense,” Steve said. “That last one worked out pretty well.”

Bucky sighed, looked desolately into the bottom of his beer mug. “Christ, I need another drink.” He stood up and nodded to Carter. “Bit of free advice for you, ma’am. His bullshit’s easier to handle if you’re a little drunk.”

“Buck!” Steve started, because _of course_ he was going to take Bucky to task over what was and wasn’t appropriate to say in front of a lady, even though this particular lady was in the army and had undoubtedly heard worse swears. And if she didn’t like it, hell. She had a hell of a right hook. She certainly didn’t need anyone else defending her delicate sensibilities for her. Steve fell silent when Carter turned to him and raised her eyebrows.

“Thank you,” she said, not taking her eyes off Steve. “I’m beginning to get that impression, Sergeant.”

Steve gave him that kicked puppy-dog look that’d been yanking at Bucky’s heartstrings since the late 20s, but then Agent Carter’s look was edging into a fond sort of exasperation, and Bucky fled across the room and over to the bar before he could see Steve react to that.

Bucky tapped the bar to catch the barman's attention. He desperately needed more beer to distract himself from Steve's attempts at flirting.

***

Steve flopped down again beside Bucky half an hour later, looking more pleased than chastised, and waved for a beer. 

“So,” Bucky said, giving Steve a long look. “Mission went _fine_ , huh?”

Steve shrugged. "May have had some complications."

"Complications." Bucky reached out, snatching the mug from the barman and taking a drink before Steve could.

"Hey!"

"You owed me one." But he didn’t complain when Steve took it back.

“At least I learned something,” Steve said. “Peggy taught me how to hotwire a car.”

Bucky laughed aloud at that. “Captain America knows how to steal a car?”

Steve shrugged a little, but looked tremendously pleased with himself.

“When the hell do you think you’ll ever need to steal a car again?” Bucky asked, poking at him. “Not that I’m not impressed she got anything through that thick head of yours, but you should’ve asked her to teach you something that’s actually useful.”

“Was plenty useful then,” Steve said. He took a sip of his beer and set the mug aside, very deliberately outside of Bucky’s reach. “And you never know. I might need to do it again.”

“Captain America, car thief,” Bucky said. “Good lord, she’s created a monster.”

“Hey!” Steve protested, laughing. “I was like this before she got ahold of me.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. It came out a little softer, a little more fond than he’d meant it to. “You certainly were.”

The silence stretched a moment, and he cleared his throat, the moment tipping toward awkward in a way he wasn't used to feeling with Steve. "So. Complications and car theft. Busy night?" Steve looked briefly sheepish, which Bucky didn't buy for a minute, and he found himself sitting straighter, frowning. "What the hell happened?"

"Oh. No, nothing." Steve held his hands up. "Buck. Nothing. Swear."

"Yeah? And you know that you still can't lie for shit, right? Because you can't."

"I so can!" Steve sputtered, and Bucky rolled his eyes, stretching across Steve's personal space for his beer. "Get off!"

"One look and you come apart. You spill everything." Bucky laughed. "And before that, you just sit there squirming like you've got ants in your pants."

"I do not!" Steve looked actively offended now, and he smacked Bucky's reaching hand. "My beer."

Bucky shook the sting from his fingers. "You don't deserve it, fucking punk."

Steve raised the mug to his lips, shooting Bucky a smug look before swallowing it down in great gulps. "Mmm. Good beer."

"You are such an asshole." Bucky waved at the barman with another sigh.


	2. And 30 Dicks

Howard Stark had a look. He always wore it when he said _"I have this idea"_ , and Steve's first instinct, his _right_ instinct, was always to say no. Sometimes no way. A few times fuck no, but never in front of Peggy.

This was a fuck no, because not even Howard Stark would talk about penises directly in front of Peggy Carter. Steve only _wished_ he'd do the same for him.

"No. It's a bad plan and it makes _no fucking sense_ ," Steve said for what felt like the twelfth time.

Bucky was laughing, clutching his sides and mostly collapsed against the wall in Stark's office. Steve had dragged Bucky along in hopes he'd be able to help him, but Bucky was no help at all.

Howard looked offended. "Of course it makes sense! And it's not a bad plan, it's a genius plan! That's why I'm here helping you all with your little thing here."

"Yes, because the entire European Theater is just a little shindig."

Howard stopped and stared at him a moment. "I hate when you do that. You're just here to be all…" He waved his hand absently at Steve. "And then you go and think you're _funny_."

"I _am_ funny." Steve crossed his arms and stared down at Howard, happy that the familiar argument was distracting Howard from his talking about _penises_.

Unfortunately for Steve, Howard seemed to have a similar thought. "No. My idea is brilliant because it's literally the last thing Hydra will expect."

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, sending a prayer for patience. "That's because it's _stupid_. It's the last thing Hydra will think of because it's a _bad idea_."

"That is where you're wrong. Besides, Phillips signed off on it already."

Steve stared at Howard a moment, the only sound Bucky's attempts to get control over himself. "You went to Phillips with this?"

"Yep." Howard always popped the p when he was feeling especially smug, and Steve _hated_ it and everything else in the world in that moment.

"Colonel Chester Phillips signed off on making," and then Steve dropped his voice to a whisper because he couldn't help it, "penis shaped explosives and sneaking them to resistance fighters in fucking Belgium?"

"They're based out of a brothel," Howard said, as if that explained anything.

"It's an amazing plan," Bucky said, and Steve kind of wanted to punch him right then. "Stark's right, no one would expect a case full of dildos shipped to a brothel to explode."

Steve shot Bucky a glare that Bucky completely ignored.

"See! Even your friend agrees with me!"

"Proof it's a bad idea," Steve muttered, and ignored Bucky's insulted "Hey!" Then he sighed. "Christ, I can't believe Phillips signed off on this."

Howard's grin, if anything, went more manic as he scented victory. "Excellent. I've got the explosive material ready, I just need to set someone to make the penises. You guys should be good to deliver it next week."

"You should have Steve do it," Bucky said with a frown at Steve. Steve reached for Bucky, attempting to get a hand over his mouth and _shut him up_ before he gave Howard Stark any more ideas. Bucky was an asshole, and jabbed him sharply in the armpit as soon as Steve got him in a grab, and continued even louder. "Steve's an artist. Sent him to art school and everything."

Howard looked like Christmas came early, and Steve could feel the situation spiraling further out of control. "Art school? Seriously? Excellent! I had no idea you were so multitalented, Cap! I'll have the boys in the lab send you the stuff. Just make sure when you're…" he snickered "sculpting it," and Bucky laughed from the headlock. "Yes. Sculpting it. Make sure you don't… bang it together at all. Slow motions." 

Howard made a demonstrative gesture that Steve _really_ wished he'd never seen, and he cursed the blood rushing into his face. Bucky was less in a hold than clinging to Steve to stay upright with the force of his laughter. Steve wished for a moment for the floor to open up and swallow him down. Swallow all of them so there would be no witnesses for this particular experience.

"Should make Jacques do it. He's the demolitions expert."

"No we can't!" Bucky managed to sound heartbroken even while gasping for breath, and Steve released him and let him fall to the ground in a pile. "He'd make them look too… French."

"Too French," Steve said, not certain he even wanted clarity at this point.

"The Belgians are very particular about the French," Howard nodded along. 

"I hate both of you. I hate you both so much. I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire."

Howard shrugged, but Bucky made a valiant effort to reign in his laughter. "Aw, Stevie..."

"I'm not talking to either of you anymore." Steve walked to the door, pulling it open.

"The penises need to be erect, Cap!" Howard shouted, entirely too loudly. The quiet industry at the desks in the large open area around Howard's office all stopped, and everyone turned to look at him. Steve had never wanted to kill Howard more. "I'll trust you to take care of that!"

Bucky started laughing again, and Steve straightened his jacket and concentrated on walking calmly away.

***

Say what you will about Steven Grant Rogers, but he certainly believed in the old adage, _If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well._ For all that he’d been grumbling and mutinous when a couple of privates schlepped over a huge crate of carefully packaged explosive material, he’d certainly settled into it. Bucky wasn’t surprised at all. Steve couldn’t help but take his art seriously, be it sketching or painting or _sculpting_.

He’d come by the tiny office Howard had turned over to Steve with the intention of laughing at him. If he poked enough fun at Steve, sometimes Steve would get so mad his whole face would turn pink, and Bucky had loved doing that since they were eight years old. 

But instead he found Steve hunched over a desk, the pink tip of his tongue poking out in concentration as he carefully added detail to the vein running up the underside of the penis in his hands. The _very large_ penis.

Bucky blinked, taking a breath around the sudden hollow feeling in his chest. Then he straightened his shoulders and attempted to drag his thoughts back into order. "Good to see you working _hard_ at things, Stevie."

Steve startled, hands coming away from the penis like he'd been burned. He flushed, color flooding his ears, then crossing his cheeks and down his neck. "You're an asshole," he finally grumbled, hunching his shoulders and turning pointedly away from Bucky.

"No, really," Bucky grinned, feeling more settled by Steve's irritation after that initial burst of… something else. "I had no idea you'd be doing so well. Who woulda thought sculpture would be your true artistic calling."

He watched the muscle in Steve's jaw jump, imagined the sound of him gritting his teeth, and wandered over, bumping his shoulder. "Lotta detail there."

"I'm not talking to you," Steve finally said, and Bucky grinned at him.

"Just did."

Steve's mouth opened, then shut, and then opened again. Bucky let his grin grow, watching the color flood Steve's face as he started and discarded several things he wanted to say. Probably loudly. 

It was _so Steve_ , and it was enough to make Bucky feel like his lungs were filling up again. Sometimes it felt like he was left searching for the old Steve in the big pile of Steve he'd become. That he wasn't the same little shit Bucky had known and taken care of all his life. And Bucky didn’t resent that Steve had changed. He didn’t resent that his outsides matched his insides and now everyone else could see how strong and brave and handsome Steve was. But sometimes it was difficult. Everything about it was difficult….

Steve finally huffed out a breath, obviously swallowing his words. Then he calmly raised a hand and gave Bucky the bird. Bucky let out a laugh. "How many you got?"

Steve's gaze darted to the covered crate in the corner, and Bucky stuffed his hands in his pockets and moseyed, which he knew would make Steve want to punch him even more. He propped up the lid, and sure enough, inside were at least ten carefully stacked and very large penises. "How many you supposed to make?"

Steve watched him a moment, obviously weighing Bucky's intent. Bucky kept his face placid, and Steve finally answered. "Thirty."

"And you've got, what? Twelve?"

"Thirteen. This is fourteen," Steve mumbled, turning back to the dick standing at attention on the table. 

"At least Stark'll be happy you're on schedule." 

Bucky let the lid drop and perched on top of the box, watching Steve. Steve kept glancing between him and the dick, looking twitchy and afraid to touch it. Bucky kept his face innocent, and briefly wished that he could swing his legs to add to the effect. But blowing himself up wasn't worth the risk.

Steve's shoulders crept higher and higher, and his neck went redder and redder. It was all Bucky could do to keep his face innocent and not burst out laughing.

Finally, Steve broke. "Are you just gonna sit there and watch me do this?"

"Yep," Bucky gave Steve a bright smile. "Nothin' to do all day but hang out with my best pal." 

Steve dropped his head to the table with a thud, and Bucky finally laughed.

***

Steve put the finishing touches on Penis #19 and set it--carefully, very carefully--aside, then reached down into the box at his side and came up empty. Frowning, he checked the other crate, and found that one empty too.

There was one crate left, where Bucky had eventually resettled himself after the annoyance of having to stand up every time Steve needed more explosives had eventually won out over his desire to be as much in Steve’s way as possible.

“Move your ass,” he told Bucky, giving him a shove that nearly sent him tumbling off his perch. Bucky startled and dropped the ratty paperback he’d been reading in the ensuing scramble to catch his balance, because thank God he’d gotten bored with making fun of Steve’s work about two penises ago and had moved on to reading to entertain himself.

Bucky grumbled to himself as he slid down off the crate and bent over to retrieve his book. Steve ignored him, and pried the lid off the crate he’d been sitting on, and found that it was full of straw and crumpled sheets of brown butcher paper: packing materials for the… _finished product_.

“Huh,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck, then went back to look in the first crate again, and immediately felt like an idiot for expecting that more explosive material might have magically appeared in the ten seconds since he’d last checked.

“What?” Bucky asked, coming up beside him. He looked down into the crate, then looked over at the table where the molded explosives sat in two neat lines, each one standing as tall and proud as a soldier at attention. “You done already?”

“No, I’m out of explosives,” Steve said, sighing. He frowned and checked the box again despite himself. Pure desperation at that point. “D’you think there was another crate and they forgot to send it over?”

Bucky shrugged, the motion a little lopsided as he half-bent over to cram his paperback into the wide pocket sewn onto the outer thigh of his trousers. “No idea. Go ask Howard?”

And that had been what Steve was afraid he’d say. The very last thing he wanted to do was ask Howard, and Steve was right on the verge of suggesting that Bucky make himself useful and go play errand boy--Steve was technically Bucky’s CO and he had no compunctions about throwing his power around a little, should the situation warrant doing so, and any situation involving Howard fucking Stark _definitely_ warranted doing so--but before he could give the order, the door swung open and the man himself appeared.

“Got the truck and your costumes ready, you guys are set to go out in three days." Howard clapped his hands together with glee. "I can't wait; blowing up Hydra with penises. That’ll be one for the history books, won’t it?” He grinned and looked around eagerly. “How's it going?"

"Um," Steve began, and then Howard's words registered. "Costumes?"

"Delivery drivers don't wear the stars and stripes. You gotta look the part. Subtlety!"

At least _now_ Bucky was starting to look concerned, too. "Didn't know you knew the meaning of the word," he muttered just loudly enough for Stark to hear him.

"I can do subtle! This mission is the _definition_ of subtle."

Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance at that, and Steve sighed when Bucky's lips twitched in a smile. "Yeah. So. I think one of the boxes got lost between you and me."

"What?" Howard frowned. "What do you mean it got lost? That's very expensive, very explosive… explosive."

"Well, there wasn’t enough to finish the job."

“You ran out?” Howard demanded incredulously. “How did you run out? I sent you more than enough explosives for all thirty…” He trailed off as he caught sight of the penises lined up on the desk. “Well there’s your problem,” Howard said, gesturing at them. “I sent you enough explosives for thirty normal sized ones. Though I have to say, I applaud your ambition.”

“But they are normal sized,” Steve protested.

Howard gaped at him a little. “Normal sized? How are these normal sized?”

“Well, I. Uh,” Steve said, looking determinedly up at the ceiling because it was the only place in the room that wasn’t anywhere near Howard or Bucky or penises. He had the feeling that maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. He took a breath. “I just made them to scale.”

“Scale to _what_?” Howard demanded, snatching a molded penis from the desk and thrusting it into Steve’s line of sight, and Steve flinched back despite himself. “A _horse_?”

“Uh,” said Steve eloquently. Beside him, Bucky made a choking noise. Steve elbowed him and then, despite himself, looked down from the ceiling and back to Howard, just in time to see the realization dawn in his eyes. Steve sensed immediately that saying that he’d made them to scale was a mistake. This whole conversation was a mistake. His entire _life_ was a mistake if it put him in this room right now with Howard Stark and Bucky Barnes. And nineteen penises, but Steve was still determinedly trying not to think about those.

”Oh!” Howard said, sounding entirely too delighted. “You made them to scale for _yourself_.”

“Well it’s not like I had any other models,” Steve snapped. He could feel himself blushing.

Howard tossed the molded penis from one hand to the other, then brought it right up to his nose and inspected it closely. “So you’re telling me that this is yours?”

Bucky made another choking noise, and Steve walloped him between the shoulder blades without looking. Bucky stumbled forward half a step with an indignant squawk, and Steve glanced guiltily over at him to make sure he hadn’t actually knocked his best friend sprawling. Sometimes Steve still misjudged his own strength. But the guilt evaporated in an instant when he saw the way that Bucky’s face had gone pink and he had his mouth clamped tightly shut in an effort to keep from laughing.

“Okay there, Buck?” he asked, then suggested, only a little desperately. “Maybe you should go get some water if your throat’s bothering you that much.”

“No way,” Bucky said. He hopped back up onto his crate and folded his arms over his chest. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

"You ran out." Howard was laughing now, and seemed to be talking mostly to himself. "That is the best thing…." He trailed off, and then grinned at Steve. "You know what, Cap? Just for that, I'll make sure you get another crate. I'll get you two if you need it! You just keep making your obscenely giant dicks. For America, or something. Freedom! I'll get another crate to you by the end of the day."

He turned and opened the door, and Steve let out a breath of relief that Howard seemed to be _leaving_ , but then he paused. “I’m keeping this, by the way,” Howard said, giving the penis in his hand a waggle.

“What? Why?” Steve asked. As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to take them back. Because this was _Howard_ and Steve really didn’t want to know.

“Why?” Howard repeated incredulously. “I am holding in my hands a perfect replica of Captain America’s cock, molded by _Captain America himself_ and you’re asking me _why_?” Howard gave him an exasperated stare. “It may have escaped your notice, but I am in fact a man of some means. And I didn’t get to where I am today by not knowing a good investment when it’s staring me in the face. This,” He gave the penis a friendly little pet that made Steve flush even redder, “is going to be worth a _fortune_ some day.”

And with that, he used the penis to toss off a jaunty little salute, and was gone.

As soon as the door fell shut behind him, Bucky howled with laughter. “Your face!” he managed to gasp out between gales. “Your _face_!”

Steve gave him a glare. “Are you finished?”

“Steve,” Bucky said, flushed and still gasping for breath. “I am _never_ going to be finished with this. Ever. So long as I live.”

“Wonderful,” Steve said dryly.

“No, no,” Bucky went on. “Howard Stark’s keeping a copy of your--”

“I know what Howard Stark’s keeping a copy of!”

“Will he keep it locked up in a safe, do you think? Or--oh! I wonder if he’ll get it insured. Imagine explaining that one when he fills out the paperwork. Item: one replica of Captain America’s--”

“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Steve muttered.

“Or he might put it on display,” Bucky mused. "Put it in a glass case, there in his big mansion for all his rich friends to ogle. With one of those display plaques like in the museum." Then he brightened suddenly. "He may put it in a museum!"

Steve couldn’t help his scandalized gasp. “He would _not_.”

Bucky shrugged. “Why not? Museums are full of art of naked people.” He gestured to the row of penises. “You’re just like Michelangelo, when you really think about it.”

"Will you shut up?"

"You think if these are so valuable, I should keep one too? Give one to everyone, send their kids to college? Buy a house?"

"You know what? Sure. Keep one." Steve advanced on Bucky, holding a dick out. Bucky's face went through a remarkable assortment of expressions before he settled on something vaguely panicked when Steve pointed the dick directly into his face. "Keep two. Nothing but the best for my best pal."

"Steve--"

"Better, you can send one to your ma. She could buy the house."

Bucky's face went red, and he grimaced. "My _ma_? You would not."

Steve felt his chin jut out, and Bucky obviously noticed it too, because he held out his hands placatingly. "No, Steve. No." Bucky was using that overly soothing voice he always used back in Brooklyn when he was trying to talk Steve out of a fight. Steve felt a burst of victory, but worked to keep his expression mulish. Bucky knew that Steve had a history of sometimes doing things he knew were ill-advised just out of sheer cussedness, and Steve wasn’t above using that to his advantage. "You… My…"

Steve waved the dick in Bucky's face once more, relishing the pained expression. "Then I think you better can it."

"Yeah." Bucky swallowed and licked his lips, glancing at the row of penises on the desk. “You got a lot of work to do, anyhow. I’ll just.” He hopped back up on the crate and opened his book again.

Steve eyed him for a moment. He knew that the silence wouldn’t last--Bucky never had been capable of keeping his trap shut for very long--so he might as well take advantage of the quiet while it lasted. He settled down at the desk and started carefully wrapping the explosives up in brown paper, getting some of the completed ones packed away while he waited for the material to arrive so he could make the rest.

***

Bucky tried, but he really couldn't make the whole _'not messing with Steve'_ thing last. Not when the new crates from Howard arrived, and the privates hauling them took one look at the cocks Steve was wrapping up and got all big-eyed and rushed out of the room like there was a fire. Not when Steve shot him a single challenging glare and pried up the lid, taking out some of the explosive like it had personally offended him.

He was all uptight and offended as he sat down, and then hunched forward to begin shaping the dick, not once losing his mulish expression.

Bucky would have been impressed, had he not been watching Steve all offended and righteous about something or other for more than a decade.

Never seen him keep it up surrounded by penises, however. Bucky snorted quietly, hiding behind his open book to try to keep his laugh in as Steve's neck and face again began to pink again.

The book couldn't hold his attention, however. Especially not when Steve's shoulders began to relax, and his expression gradually lost some of the pig-headedness and shifted more to focused determination. It was almost… awkward. It’d been funny before, when Bucky hadn’t known that Steve was making replicas of himself. But the fact that Steve was looking like that at _his_ penis, hands moving slowly and confidently as he worked it into shape, made it more personal. 

Like, maybe Bucky shouldn't be here watching. But he couldn't stop, his eyes dragged back to Steve again and again.

He could feel his face heat, his chest tighten, and he cleared his throat. Steve's shoulders shot back up, and Bucky felt a rush of relief for Steve's pricklishness. Poking Steve was better than… well, whatever that was.

Bucky glanced around. "Just thinkin' if you needed some time alone. You know, with your dick, but I decided nah."

Steve turned with a glare, and Bucky laughed, going back to his book.

***

Bucky almost wished he could have brought one of the dicks to mess that evening, but Steve just glared from his protectively hunched position over the dick he was sculpting when he left for dinner. He shoved his way onto the bench between Dum Dum and Monty, giving them a few friendly elbows for good measure.

"You heard what Howard has us doing?" He kept his voice low enough to be covered by the sounds at the other tables, knowing that would get everyone's attention more than the words themselves.

Sure enough, it worked, and everyone turned to look at him. " _Howard?_ " Monty's voice was incredulous. "Stark is leaving the lab to give us assignments?"

"You haven't heard the best part." Bucky leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Brothel in Belgium."

Dum Dum burst out laughing at that, long and loud. "Figures Stark would send us to a brothel."

Bucky grinned, shoving a forkful of beans into his mouth. 

"There's more to it." Jim peered across the table at him, frowning. "You're way more smug than you'd be just going to a brothel."

Bucky sniggered. "We're doin' a delivery. Town's Hydra-occupied, we're bringing the resistance some explosives." He paused, taking another bite, enjoying the expectant looks around him. "And since it's _Howard Stark_ with the plan this time, what do you think he's got Steve sculpting the explosives into to be _subtle_?"

"Sculpting?" Dernier looked offended. "He has Cap making explosives?"

"No, he has Cap making thirty. Explosive. Dicks."

Bucky snickered to himself at the slack-jawed expressions on everyone's faces at that. He ate two bites, before Gabe finally hissed, "Are you _serious_?"

"Dead serious." He smirked around the table. "Giant ones."

There was another pause as everyone glanced between themselves, obviously waiting for someone else to ask. Dum Dum sighed, and leaned in, "How giant are we talking?"

Bucky cleared his throat, glancing quickly around the mess. " _To scale,_ " he said, complete with fingerquotes. 

Jim snorted a laugh, quickly smothered behind his hand, and Monty held up a hand. "You're telling us that Stark has Cap making some Cap-sized explosive dicks to smuggle to a brothel somewhere in Belgium?"

Bucky nodded, covering his eyes with a hand, unable to smother his laughter any more. "Thirty. Thirty of 'em."

What started as stifled snickering from everyone at the table soon turned to full-blown laughter, and the people eating at the surrounding tables all turned to stare. 

Their laughter had eventually faded, mostly by the lot of them carefully not making eye contact with anyone else, when Bucky felt a jab to his back. 

"Move over," Steve still sounded grumpy, so Bucky obligingly scooted closer to Monty, giving Steve room to get a leg over the bench between him and Dum Dum. He crammed himself in, jostling Bucky deliberately, and Bucky just took another bite of beans. He stared at his plate, knowing the minute anyone looked up, they would all lose it again.

"What?" Steve's voice went sharpish; Bucky knew he was looking at everyone and frowning. 

Monty huffed a laugh which he quickly covered as a cough and Steve sighed. "Buck…"

Dum Dum began to snicker, and then Gabe, and then Bucky finally lost it. Steve shoved an elbow into his ribs, which _hurt_ because the jackass still managed to have the same pointy elbows even under all that muscle, and Bucky laughed out an "ow" before giving up on his fork and covering his face entirely.

"You are all shits. You are full of shit. I hate all of you."

Jim seemed the most in control of himself. "Not as much as Stark, I'm assuming."

Steve let out a sound at that, halfway between pained and angry, and it only made Bucky laugh harder.

***

Three days later, Steve was feeling even more entirely done with the lot of them. His life had become nonstop dick jokes and puns, and it had only stopped when it was time to suit up, and they all united in solidarity while eyeing up Stark's idea of _subtle delivery costumes_.

"Has Stark actually seen a deliveryman directly?" Gabe frowned at the suit. "I'll look like a doorman at a hotel, not someone driving a truck."

Bucky sighed, attention focused on the suits. "Alright. Lose the jacket. Keep the shirt and trousers. Your boots, your jacket."

"But it's so clean," Jim complained. "How are we supposed to have shit this clean?"

"Trousers are dark, won't matter much. But they're obviously civilian, which is about the only good thing I can say about Stark's planning." Bucky rubbed the side of his face, looking annoyed. "Toss the shirt out in the dust. Step on it a few times. Get it wrinkled, roll the sleeves up, unbutton the neck."

There was sighing and more grumbling about Stark as they all followed Bucky's direction. Bucky went back and forth between them, slapping off distinct bootprints and stretching seams, until Steve had to admit they finally looked more the part. 

Bucky was looking smugly pleased with himself, so Steve clapped his hands together. "Alright, crates need to be loaded. We're the truck with ProSafe on the side. Remember that."

They were laughing and elbowing each other as they headed out to the truck, and Steve sighed as they left him staring at the three crates sitting in the room. "Hey! Someone take at least one of these!"

"Ain't touching your dick, Cap!" Dum Dum shouted back over his shoulder.

"The hell you aren't! Get your ass back here and help me!"

Everyone laughed as Dum Dum trudged back. "Can't be that heavy," he muttered, giving Steve a beady stare. 

"Too big to see around."

Dum Dum muttered again, but Steve ignored him because he also picked up one side of a crate.

***

They'd already gotten two crates into the truck when Phillips arrived. Dum Dum and Steve were carrying the last, while Bucky 'supervised'. Steve knew something was up when the heckling from inside the truck stopped, and he and Dum Dum set the crate down carefully between them before turning to see Phillips standing behind them.

"At ease, gentlemen." 

Steve felt caught in the crosshairs of Phillips's stare, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dum Dum take a tiny step away. And then Phillips reached for the crate at Steve's feet, casually popping the lid.

There was a shuffling of packing material, and then silence. Steve swallowed around his suddenly dry throat, picturing Phillips holding _his cock_ and he couldn't look. He couldn't look. He couldn't look. He couldn't-- 

He had to look. Phillips stared down at the unwrapped explosive for a long moment. “Who,” he finally said, “on _God’s green earth_ is responsible for this?”

Steve's first instinct was to say "Stark." So was his second and third. Maybe mention Bucky for instigating for good measure. But the look on Phillips's face demanded an answer _now_. 

“I was informed you’d signed off on this, sir,” Steve said, dodging the question as best as he was able. He could feel his face burning. Behind him, he heard Dugan shuffle a step further away. Gabe, Dernier, Jim, and Monty were dead silent inside the truck. Bucky was doing a terrible job of attempting to hide behind a flagpole. And Howard, that _traitor_ , was of course nowhere to be seen.

“I signed off on an order for explosives molded into something inconspicuous. Something that Hydra won’t look at twice when we smuggle it in right under their noses.” Phillips glanced pointedly down at the crate. “I’m fairly sure this is the exact opposite of inconspicuous.”

Steve opened his mouth. Shut his mouth. Took a breath. “They’re based out of a brothel,” he said helplessly.

Phillips stared him down, then looked back into the crate. “And why are they so big?”

A choking noise came from behind the flagpole.

“This was the amount of explosive material necessary for each charge,” Steve lied. That was his story and he was sticking to it. Bucky might’ve ratted him out to the rest of the Commandos, but he certainly wouldn’t go out of his way to set Phillips straight. “We’re going to blow them to kingdom come, sir.”

Another choking noise followed by a coughing fit. Steve was going to murder Bucky later. 

Phillips looked at him, glanced over at the flagpole, eyed each of the Commandos, and then turned his impressive glare back on Steve. "See you do, then. You use _all of them_ and make sure _no one_ is left to say anything about this. Do I make myself clear?"

Steve carefully didn't think of the penis Stark was keeping. "Yes, sir."

"Then get these out of my sight and over the border yesterday."

"Yessir," Steve got out as quickly as possible. "Everyone in!"

Dum Dum and Bucky shoved the crate in, and then scrambled into the back of the truck after it. Steve aggressively shoved Jim over to squeeze in beside him. Phillips glared at them as Monty got the truck started and they took off out of the camp. 

There was blessed silence for a full minute before Dum Dum opened his damned fool mouth again. "Okay so now that Phillips touched his dick, I don't feel so bad."

Steve ignored their laughter.

**

The trip through France and into Belgium was scenic, and surprisingly free of either Nazis or Hydra. The truck, on the other hand, rumbled and nearly gave out three times before they crossed the border. So of course, when they finally reached Charleroi, the Hydra presence was much larger than advertised. Either Stark's information had been wrong, or he'd not paid close enough attention to the actual numbers, so caught up in his plans for exploding penises. There were enough that they couldn't even make it _to_ the brothel, or even into the main part of the town proper, before they were halted with guns pointed at them and their cargo was inspected.

And that was it's own kind of hell. They were waved out of the truck while the Hydra soldiers pulled out the crates, opened one, exclaimed over the contents, opened the next, nudged each other, opened the last, and finally gave one of the dicks a hesitant poke with the butt of a rifle. Steve didn't need to know much German to get the general idea of what they were saying about _that_.

But Monty kept his replies bored and monosyllabic as one soldier spoke to him with lots of gesticulating, and the others held a hurried conversation by the back of the truck. 

It was nerve wrecking. Still, Steve concentrated on leaning sullenly against the truck, looking bored and annoyed under the gaze of the Hydra soldiers. Finally they were directed into a barn on the edge of town and locked in. They piled into the room and Gabe pressed his ear to the door. Everyone else made low grumbling sounds, because nothing was more suspicious than silence, as he listened.

Several minutes later, Gabe stepped quietly away from the door and stood beside Dernier. "They think we're pulling something over on 'em," he murmured, words buried under the susurration of the rest. "Locked us in while they send for someone higher up to deal with us. No one wants to have anything to do with the dicks."

"Which they don't think can possibly be real," was Monty's contribution, smirk firmly in place. "Made them too large to be believed."

"Amount of explosive material needed for each charge, Christ," Bucky muttered, rolling his eyes. "But them calling in for higher ups is bad. The point of this mission was to get the explosives to the resistance here, not to get caught by Hydra tryin' to deliver it."

"Any chance they'll be able to snag the crates if we get word to them?" Jim asked.

"Through the roadblock and checkpoint? Unlikely." Monty shook his head.

Steve sighed. "That assumes we could get out of here subtly enough that they'd get the crates before anyone noticed we were gone."

"So we do not go subtle," Jacques shrugged. "We deal with the Hydra ourselves."

"Maybe," Monty said. "But with explosives, we'd need to get at least most of them away from the town. The truck just isn't going to make it."

"So we don't take the truck," Steve grinned, feeling the giddy sense of certainty that came with the beginnings of a plan. 

Bucky shot him a look, then rolled his eyes. "Christ. I forgot Carter taught you to steal cars."

Dum Dum rubbed his hands together. "So we grab the crates, toss 'em into the nearest likely jeep, and lead 'em out?"

"Less with the tossing of explosives, but yeah. We can drag 'em halfway to Brussels and blow them to pieces if those explosives are half as good as Stark implied." Steve looked around. "They still out there?"

Everyone quieted a moment, but the only sound outside was the usual twitters of birdsong. They exchanged a glance, grins equally manic, before Steve kicked the door down.

***

Dum Dum took in the surroundings with a quick eye as he grabbed the nearest crate. Cap was hurrying toward a German jeep. It was a six-seater, and would be tight with the crates. Then he huffed a laugh. "What d'you call thirty seven dicks in a jeep?"

Barnes groaned as he hauled a crate after Cap. "You finish that joke, it'll only be thirty six." 

Dum Dum shrugged and followed, looking around again. The area remained clear, but he didn't trust it to remain so. Sure enough, he'd settled his crate in the back of the jeep under Barnes's loving ' _gentle, you asshole_ ' and was helping Frenchie to shove the last crate in when there was a shout.

He scrambled onto one of the crates as Cap finished messing around under the wheel and the jeep shuddered to life. He grabbed Frenchie's hand and hauled him up as well, squeezing into the footwell beside Fresno. The three Hydra goons were hauling ass after them as Cap spun the wheel and took off, bypassing the road entirely and jolting off across the field.

Frenchie slowly opened a crate lid, gently unwrapping a dick. "Why are you being so careful?" Dum Dum shouted and clutched his hat to his head. "Cap's decided roads are too easy."

Frenchie shrugged, balancing himself where he was crammed in tight, and Gabe reached across the seats to grab his vest, steadying him as Cap turned sharp enough to smash him into Fresno.

Then with a bit of _perfect_ aim, the cock sailed out of Frenchie's hand and straight at the soldiers chasing them. Dum Dum relished the moment of completely barmy-assed panic on their faces when they realized that Frenchie was throwing a _dick_ at them when it hit the ground and exploded. 

Dum Dum cheered as sod shot in all directions, leaving a sizeable hole in the ground where the dick hit. There was no sign of Hydra. "Stark is a genius!" he shouted over his shoulder. 

"Steve! Steve!" Barnes voice was panicked, and Dum Dum stretched up to look behind him as the jeep suddenly tilted down and they crashed onto a road. 

"Shit!" He reached around, grabbing Dernier as the jeep nearly flipped entirely. Cap didn't slow for a moment, he just swerved straight onto the road to the sound of cursing and shouts.

"Sorry!" 

"Shit! Cap! In front of us!" Monty's voice was high in panic and Dum Dum saw they were headed toward an oncoming jeep.

"Behind us," Frenchie didn't seem bothered that he'd nearly fallen out of the jeep, and Dum Dum looked up in time to see him make another toss.

There was a boom behind them, and then the sounds of gunfire. Everyone ducked on instinct, and the jeep swerved again, going up on two wheels as Cap reversed direction on the too-narrow road. Frenchie somehow managed _another_ toss, and they were headed back in the direction of Charleroi, the remains of a Hydra car now behind them.

"We're goin' the wrong way!" he shouted. 

"No shit!" Fresno yelled.

"Can't go that way," Cap said, eking out a little more speed from the overloaded jeep. "We'll have to blow 'em at the nest."

"This is a really bad idea," Gabe said. "Three months cigarette rations that this is a _bad idea_."

"Have some faith!" Cap was grinning. Dum Dum could hear the big stupid grin, and he sent up a brief prayer because he _knew_ what that meant.

"What about civilians?" 

"Jacques has pretty good aim."

"Shit…" Barnes muttered as the sound of gunfire started again. Dum Dum looked over the seat again and saw Cap driving straight for another jeep.

"We can't toss while we need the road there!"

"Sure we can."

Dum Dum looked up at Frenchie, who shrugged again and tossed another dick.

"Holy Mary Mother of God, this is a bad idea," Dum Dum said, exchanging a look with Gabe.

"What can possibly go wrong?" Steve laughed.

"Oh fuck me," Barnes groaned as the town came into view, soldiers and jeeps boiling out like a kicked ant's nest.

"That. That can," Fresno shouted, pointing ahead.

Cap swerved, and Frenchie gave a casual toss, the latest cock flying just as true as the last. 

"How is he _doing_ this?" Monty muttered, knuckles white against his grip Cap swerved again, avoiding the newest crater.

"Cap or Jacques?" Gabe asked.

"Guys…." 

"Jacques!"

"Magic!" Dum Dum laughed.

"Steve…."

"I know."

Dum Dum looked up again, and yelped as Cap swerved into the side of a house, knocking four goons out with the slide.

"We're in a car filled with explosives!" Barnes yelled.

"They're packed," Cap countered.

"Holy Mary of Fucking God," Dum Dum breathed as Cap sped up again. "We're going to die."

"Bad idea." Fresno agreed.

Jacques threw another dick.

***

Bucky wasn't sure how they made it. He could only think that no one, Hydra or otherwise, considered anyone could be as stupidly suicidal as Steve was. Or that they'd dump an entire crate out the back, destroying the road behind them entirely when the jeep following had been unable to swerve in time to avoid it.

It had nearly destroyed their jeep as well, the force of the blast hot and singy, and the jeep had jumped in a way he did _not_ want to think about.

They'd almost died. Steven Fucking Rogers had nearly killed himself and everyone else. Bucky's gut rolled at the thought.

"You are _never_ driving again," was all he could think to say.

Steve waved him off. "Almost out of gas, we'll have to walk soon."

"Don't you ignore me when I'm yelling at you."

"Ladies," Monty interrupted. "Should we abandon ship now? Can't be far to another town, and more Hydra besides."

Steve shook his head. "We'll push on as much as we can, get as much distance as possible." Steve sounded entirely too happy. "Then we'll circle back West. Don't want to end up in Germany."

Bucky was going to strangle him. "We almost died."

"But we didn't."

"Steve, so help me…"

Dum Dum smacked him with his hat. "Shut up, Sarge."

Bucky grit his teeth and glowered at him. "You'll get yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should surprise no one who knows us that this was the ONE THING that we both determined early on that needed to be in the fic.


	3. It Couldn't Get Any Worse

They limped into the clearing shortly after dusk. They'd abandoned the jeep at noon when it had run out of gas, and they'd taken the opportunity to go cross country from there. Now Bucky had no idea where they were or how to make it back.

"Rest up." Even Steve sounded tired, and the rest of them more or less collapsed in place. Bucky pulled his boots off, rubbing his foot where a blister had formed and then popped at least an hour earlier.

"Fast march when we don't know where we're going is shit," Jim said from his position flat on the dried leaves covering the ground. "Especially after the heartattack that is Cap's driving."

"Yeah, yeah. Keep it up. We'll rest up, reorient, and head back towards the border in the morning."

"But I'm _hungry_ ," Dum Dum whined in a high falsetto.

Jacques said something that made Gabe snort and reply back in kind before glancing over at Monty, who seemed to have fallen asleep already.

Figured. Monty always was the best at sleeping anywhere. Bucky let out a sigh. "You do know we've been hoofing it _away_ from France, right?"

"Yep." Steve grinned at him, earlier exhaustion seemingly already melted away. Asshole looked ready for another half-day march, and he grinned around at the scarlet and yellow leaves clinging to the trees. "We're far enough away from both Charleroi and the jeep, it'll probably be safe to find somewhere to snag some food in the morning before we turn around."

"Entire country's crawling with Hydra," Dum Dum grumbled.

"Yeah, but we're not gonna stand out so much now. No truck, no dicks."

Jacques gave a slow grin at that and pulled a large cock out of his vest. Steve's expression dropped immediately. "No."

_"Oui."_

"No." Steve shook his head. "No." 

Bucky cackled. "You broke him. He's just repeating himself."

"Get rid of that thing!" Steve stomped over to where Jacques was sitting, watching with a bland expression and cradling the cock.

"Aw Stevie, we may need it!"

Jacques said something else in French, and Steve ignored Bucky to turn his expectant glare on Gabe, who promptly burst into laughter. "No. I'm not telling him that."

Steve rolled his eyes as Dum Dum's guffaws filled the clearing. "Fine. Fine. You just. Enjoy your cock."

Jacques grinned, gave the cock a friendly pat, and tucked it back into his vest. Steve turned and stomped in Bucky's direction, giving him a sharp kick to the foot. "And you, shut up or you'll be on solo watch all night."

"Hey," Bucky protested, unable to stop his laughter at Steve's red face. 

"I'm your CO, don't think I won't."

Bucky rolled his eyes and buttoned his coat up to his neck. "Night, Steve," he said as he closed his eyes.

"I hate you," Steve said. Then he kicked Bucky's foot again, gently this time. Bucky grinned and fell asleep listening to the quiet sounds of Steve and Dum Dum ribbing each other across the clearing.

***

Monty nudged Bucky awake in the chill purple pre-dawn. His stomach growled loudly, and he grimaced. They'd eaten on the road the day before, before arriving in Charleroi, but it felt long ago now. 

Bucky squeezed himself out from between Gabe and Dum Dum, shivering at the sudden lack of heat. There was a fine layer of frost on the ground, and he shivered again, wiping the damp from his face. Monty squeezed into the gap Bucky had left and promptly closed his eyes again.

Bucky sighed and rubbed his hands together, watching his breath puff in front of him.

"Hey." 

He glanced over to where Steve was sitting, hunched tight against a tree trunk. Bucky made his way over, shoving in as close to Steve's warmth as he could manage.

"We'll need to find food first thing." Steve's voice was low, and Bucky nodded in agreement.

Steve sighed, leaning harder into Bucky. "Cause I'm fucking starving."

Bucky snorted a laugh. "Oh sure. When anyone else says it, it's whining, but when _Steve_ is hungry…."

Steve shoved him, and Bucky shoved him back, and they both snickered until Dum Dum let out a loud snort in his sleep.

They sat in silence for a bit, Bucky blowing hot air over his hands when his fingers started feeling too stiff, and not thinking how content he felt, even hungry and lost, when Steve let out a sigh. "Supposed to be good chocolate in Belgium."

Bucky's stomach growled, and he elbowed Steve on principle. "Chocolate and beer," he agreed. "Could use some of that now."

Steve groaned softly, the sound twisting in Bucky's stomach like hunger. "Mmm. Both."

Bucky cleared his throat. "Dunno if we'll find any on this trip. Have to come back later. After Hydra's been cleaned out."

"Come back to Belgium, eat up all their chocolate…."

"They'll probably give it to us free."

Steve nodded solemnly. "Gratitude."

"Gratitude," Bucky agreed.

"I'm hungry," Steve muttered, burying his head against his drawn-up knees.

Bucky wrapped an arm around him, leaning in. "Yeah. We'll head out as soon as it's light."

They sat like that, Bucky pressed against the comfortable warmth of Steve's side, until the sun was fully up and the first birds started calling.

***

It was pretty pathetic, the moaning and groaning and foot dragging everyone did when they finally got started. They were acting like a bunch of whiney schoolboys, rather than an elite commando unit. They tromped for half an hour through the wooded hills before the ground flattened before them and Gabe scrambled up a tree to look for signs of civilization.

After several moments, Gabe let out two sharp whistles, before coming down the tree a good bit less gracefully than he'd climbed up.

"Farmland ahead of us. Lots of cows."

Steve blinked. "What the hell are we supposed to do with cows?"

Gabe paused before he shrugged. "Milk 'em?"

Steve glanced around the group, grateful they looked as bewildered as he felt. "How?"

Dum Dum coughed. "Um. Well. Cows mean farmers, right? Gotta be a farmhouse somewhere?"

Bucky turned eager eyes on Gabe. " _Please_ say you saw a farmhouse."

"I saw a farmhouse."

Morita punched Gabe in the arm. "Why didn't you start off with that?"

"It's on the main road, and had a convoy of six driving past it."

Everyone groaned at that. "Fine, fine. We'll approach the farmhouse _quietly_ and if it's more a pain in the ass than it's worth, we'll… try the cows. How hard can it be?"

"Those sound like famous last words, Cap." 

"Shut up, Dum Dum."

***

Cows were much harder than anticipated. They were also more successful than any Hydra squad had ever been, and a disastrous attempt at approaching a bull caused it to chase them across the field and over the fence.

They swore to never speak of The Cow Incident again.

***

The sun was low on the horizon when they finally came across an abandoned farmhouse. They'd made worse time than Steve had hoped; the earlier assessment that Belgium had a much larger Hydra presence than had been accounted for in any of their briefings held true, and they'd spent a good deal of time ducking into ditches to avoid the frequent convoys. 

"Like someone kicked a bees nest," Dum Dum had said from where they'd crouched behind a hedge.

"I blame Stark," Bucky had retorted, to the solemn nods of Jacques and Morita.

"Safest bet," Gabe grinned.

But they pushed a cracked window open and wriggled their way into the dusty kitchen. Bucky immediately began digging through the shelves lining one wall while Jacques did the same opposite. 

"Ha!" Bucky yelled, holding up a half a ham. Dum Dum grabbed him and swung him around in an embrace, laughing loudly.

Eventually they calmed and all sat in a tight circle on the dusty floor. They ate salty ham and laughed and it was almost like being back on base. It was easy to forget they were stuck somewhere miles behind enemy lines with no transportation, no weapons, no supplies. For one night, at least, things felt like they were going to be okay.

***

Three days later, things were most definitely _not_ okay. Belgium was a tiny country, and Bucky had a hard time believing they'd been walking around in it for three days without hitting a border.

Of course, walking was a bit of a misnomer for what they were actually doing. Because whatever Hydra was up to, it seemed to be getting more active as the hours passed, and they lost hours at a time hiding and backtracking, without the resources to think of taking on a group of 50 heavily-armed goons. Or more.

Everyone was flagging. The constant stress and frustration, the lack of food and sleep, the constant moving from one position to another, always trying to avoid the patrols which seemed more and more frequent… 

Bucky grimaced as he took in the town below them. "We're going to have to backtrack again."

"No." Steve's face did that _thing_ it always did when he was going to dig in his heels and be stubborn at something, and Bucky groaned quietly to himself. 

"Steve--"

"No," Steve repeated. "We aren't going to find a good place to get past them. We've been looking for days. We're exhausted and hungry and we need to get back to France and out of this fucking place. We push through here."

"I still think we could bypass the town. Sneak--"

"Yes, because whatever they've laid in the ground in the non-habitated areas that set up alarms whenever people get within three miles is the better option."

"Somewhere with cows…? Cows are big?"

"And don't trip the alarms." Jim broke the silence behind them, and Bucky turned to look at where the rest had tucked themselves in the bushes. Jim shrugged. "They don't. Neither do sheep, deer, birds…. Whatever this tech is, it seems to be people only."

"Cap's right, Sarge." Dum Dum nodded. "Gotta push through somewhere. We go much longer without real food and rest, we'll start getting stupid."

"We're already stupid," Monty muttered. "Or you are, at least."

"Jesus Christ." Bucky muttered. "There's gotta be 50 men down there, got the civilians too scared to be out of doors at all, and you lot _want_ to go through the middle of town to get over the border? That's the best idea we have?"

"We could steal a ca--"

"No." Everyone spoke at once, silencing Steve, who just grinned a bit in response. 

"Can probably do a pretty good sneak tonight, though," Gabe said. "Give us a chance."

Jacques said something in response, pointing down toward the middle of town. Gabe and Monty nodded. "Yeah, middle of town's actually crowded by all their stuff, it's the most obvious choke point."

"You all are crazy assholes," Dum Dum gave a manic grin. "It'll be great."

"We'll lift what we can, get through as quickly and quietly as we're able." Steve grinned back. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Bucky buried his face in his hands, because the alternative was punching Steve right in his damned-fool mouth. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that because I _know_ you know what a stupid ass thing it is to say on an op."

Steve ignored him, because of course he did. "We'll hide here. We've good visuals on town and we'll wait until night, because Gabe is right."

Gabe held up a hand, murmuring, "Thank you, thank you," until Jacques elbowed him with a grin. 

"When we're dead because we're all idiots, at least Carter and Phillips can't kill us again for _being_ idiots," Bucky muttered.

Dum Dum snickered and jostled him, while Steve rolled his eyes. "Get some rest. I'll take watch."

***

The longer Steve watched, the more concerned he became. What had seemed initially to be a small company of 50 or 60 had swelled over the course of the afternoon into something double that. 

"They're planning something. Or somehow they're tracking us," Bucky murmured from his position pressed beside him. Steve had tried to convince him to rest behind the hedgerow with the others, but Bucky had shot him a look and he'd given in. He was grateful for the familiar warmth and support now. 

"What are the chances we _just happened_ to pick the crossing that Hydra _just happened_ to be organizing at?"

Bucky shrugged, his smile strained. "Knowing our luck?" Then he shook his head, turning his attention back toward the town. "Not gonna be the simple sneak across we were hoping for."

"Well, not like that was ever gonna happen, anyway."

"Guy can hope."

They quieted when another truck rumbled up the road, disgorging ten soldiers from the back.

"We can try another crossing point," Steve said in response to Bucky's expression flattening with worry. 

"As far as we'll have to go to avoid whatever those alarms are that they've got, plus how busy the roads are?"

"Well, at least I've done stupider." Steve gave a weak grin.

"You've always been stupid," Bucky grinned faintly at him before his attention was dragged back to the town. "Just… Don't go too stupid. We gotta come out the other side of this thing."

Steve felt his smile soften, and he reached out, pulling Bucky into a hug. They stayed crouched there, Steve's arm around Bucky, and watched the town until sunset.

***

"Is it me, or is it a lot busier than it was this morning?" Monty frowned down at the town, visibly crawling with Hydra troops.

"Not sure the town is anything _but_ Hydra at this point." Bucky shook his head, brow lined with worry. "No signs of anyone else, no sounds, no lights, no movement from within the buildings except them."

"Well, makes some things easier at least, not having to worry about collateral damage," Gabe glanced between the town and the rest of them.

"Don't got anything to take out an entire town, though," Jim said.

"There're no tanks." Steve pointed down to where most of the cars seemed to be parked. "Get in front of them, grab a car, one explosive should be enough to get rid of most of their vehicles."

Bucky shot him a look. "You just _want_ to steal a car."

He grinned. "Guilty."

"Solid plan." Dum Dum broke in, unusually serious. "We can't get all of us past them. Need to go fast or need to go big."

Bucky squeezed Dum Dum's shoulder briefly. "So we aim for a car. Push through fast, grab anything we can get easily on the way."

"We've made it through worse," Steve offered to break the tension.

Dernier snorted, and Monty shook his head. "Usually we've a bit more at our disposal going into those hopeless situations."

"We got out of a Hydra base starting with nothing." Steve blinked when something in Bucky's face blanked at that, going unreadable in an instant. He swallowed around the burst of unease that sudden difference caused and focused on the others. "We did it once, we can do it again."

There was a pause while everyone stared at him, and then Gabe shook his head. "Cap, you should really leave Carter or someone to write your speeches."

"That was terrible," Monty agreed.

"We're ashamed of you." Dum Dum pulled off his hat and smacked at Steve with it. 

Steve smacked back at Dum Dum, something in his chest relaxing as Bucky smiled a bit at the bickering. He never talked about Azzano, no one did. Steve briefly cursed himself for bringing it up, but it was the closest comparison he could make. 

It had been a suicide mission. He'd been alone, basically unarmed, and everyone around him had been half-starved, sick, or injured when they'd taken out the entire base. Steve knew they could do this, too.

He didn't want to think that there was a problem, didn't want to think about Bucky's body on the gurney, or his expression just now when he'd mentioned it. 

"So, let's go."

***

Bucky stuck close by Steve as they crept towards the town. Dum Dum and Monty had peeled off with Morita, veering south before they reached the first empty house, and Gabe and Dernier had crawled ahead of any of them and were doubtless halfway through by now. 

Bucky thought things were going remarkably smoothly, which meant that when the sounds of gunfire started, he spent most of his first thought cursing himself for thinking like that, before automatically grabbing Steve and pulling him _down_ before he went off and did something stupid.

It wasn't a moment too soon, because Steve had been halfway to standing, and even the distraction of gunfire somewhere ahead of them wouldn't matter if six feet of impulsive idiot suddenly popped out from somewhere no one was supposed to be and took off toward whatever the trouble was.

"Christ, it's like you _want_ to get shot." 

Bucky kept his words almost silent, knowing Steve would hear him anyway, and ignored the elbow jabbed into his gut in reply. He ignored Steve's squirming, kneeling on top of him to keep him _down_ and he peeked around the side of the house. Bucky knew Steve could push him off. Hell, he'd be able to stand up supporting Bucky's weight and barely feel it. But he figured it served as a good enough reminder to _not be dumb_ , and Steve seemed to take it as such. 

Bucky saw a dozen heavily armed men rushing along the road through town, following it as it turned south and out of sight. South, toward Dum Dum, Monty, and Morita.

"Shit," he murmured.

"What?" Steve hissed from beneath him.

"Dum Dum," was all he got out, which was probably enough explanation as Steve rolled and sent Bucky sprawling half beneath him.

"Don't worry," Steve said, staring at Bucky from entirely too close. "I've got an idea."

Bucky recognized that look. Steve's jaw was tight, jutting out like the prow of a ship, and his brows furrowed hard enough to leave stark shadows in the line between them. It was the same stupid look Steve wore on his stupid face whenever he went and did something especially stupid. Bucky's heart crawled up into his throat, and he shook his head frantically. "Steve. Don't."

Steve's expression went more mulish and Bucky scrambled to grasp his arm. "Steve." But Steve wasn't looking at him, he was peering up, ready to stand and rush into whatever had happened and not spare a single moment to think about his own damned safety.

Bucky didn't know why he did it. It wasn't like he'd always heard; that when facing certain death, one's life flashed before their eyes. It was Steve's life. Every moment they'd spent together crystallizing in an instant, and he knew that if Steve rushed off now and got himself killed, Bucky wouldn't be long for this world, either.

So Bucky reached up, grabbing Steve by the hair, and crushed their mouths together. 

Steve stiffened in shock, but Bucky didn't notice in that instant as everything seemed to slot together with an almost audible pop, like a joint locking back into place. His chest filled with relief, as every choked-off feeling from the past months suddenly made sense.

And then reality came crashing back in. He was holding Steve, his best friend who he loved more than life, and kissing him. Steve, who had gone so stiff in shock that Bucky cursed and released him, scrambling away and wishing that something, _anything_ could happen to undo the past minutes.

But of course, not even Hydra had mastered time travel. And Bucky lay in the dirt, staring at Steve while Steve stared back, lips red and face flushed in shock. Steve watched him until there was another burst of gunfire, at which point he pushed himself up into a crouch and darted away. And Bucky had to follow.

***

Jacques was used to things going wrong. He'd been captured by Hydra, yes, but he'd never experienced things going _wrong_ in quite the same way as after becoming one of Captain America's Howling Commandos. And while he was a big enough man to recognize that it was _his_ choices that often brought him to that point, he still felt that, at least in this instance, his current troubles could be pinned on one person specifically. And he turned the full force of his glare on Jim Morita.

Morita ignored him, as Jacques expected. Morita knew how to keep himself to himself, and was ignoring the Hydra idiot yelling while holding onto his arm with equal aplomb.

Things had been going well, against all expectation. He'd separated from Gabe shortly after they'd passed the first house. He'd crept from shadow to shadow, silent as the night, when the sound of gunfire caused him to still in anticipation.

It did him no good, as moments later Morita had run right into him, trailing three Hydra guards. They'd crashed, tumbling end over end, but had picked themselves up and taken off, turning around another house and right into a new group of guards heading their way.

They'd dodged, but there were more shots fired as they were outmaneuvered under an empty laundry line, and they were quick-marched back toward the town square. Then the idiots proceeded to yell at each other, ignoring Jacques and Morita almost entirely.

Then, the entire thought of the idiocy of Hydra ignoring them, not even bothering to search them, was wasted, as Jacques felt his eyes grow large at the sight of Cap rushing toward them, waving and yelling like an idiot. Jacques hastily revised his earlier thought with the certainty that _this time_ he was going to die, and it was going to be Cap's fault. He crossed his chest briefly, as everyone paused to stare, then Morita grabbed the pistol from the man holding him, squirming down and out of his grip before anyone could get their guns raised on Cap.

Then it was chaos. Jacques wasn't entirely sure what happened, but Cap crashed into them, and when he got up, the Hydra agents were all dead or unconscious, and he tossed a pistol over his shoulder to where Barnes had been following.

Barnes looked odd, his face pale and eyes darting. Jacques didn't have time to think about that, because there was more shouting, and Dum Dum and Monty ran toward them. "Gabe?"

"Probably too smart to be caught up in this. Head for the jeeps," Barnes said, tilting his head in the direction of the main road. 

"You still got it?" Cap asked. 

Jacques patted the explosive materials still in his pocket. "They did not think to look."

Cap clapped him on the arm and took off toward the jeeps. Jacques followed more slowly, hugging the shadows and noting Barnes hung back as well, eyes darting and pistol at the ready.

There was the sudden pop of gunfire ahead of them, and Barnes cursed, breaking into a run toward the trouble. Jacques hurried as well, rounding a house to see Cap punching at the group of eight trying to tackle him, with Dum Dum and Monty picking off runners approaching from the road. Barnes shot four of the men surrounding Cap in the space of two heartbeats before yelling, "Get the car going!"

Cap kicked at one of the remainders, sending him crashing into a house as Barnes shot the last. Then he ran to a car, opening the door and disappearing from sight under the wheel. 

Jacques jumped when a hand clamped on his shoulder, but the familiar voice was welcome. "Thought we were going for quiet," Gabe said between gasping breaths.

Jacques gave a shrug, grinning at the smile growing across Gabe's face. 

Gabe huffed a laugh, "Shoulda known it wouldn't work with Cap involved." 

Jacques twitched an eyebrow at where Jim was already in the back of the jeep that Cap was working on, head and gun visible above the back. "Morita."

" _Morita_ did it?"

"Had to happen eventually, yes?"

Gabe's laugh was interrupted by the sudden roar of the Jeep's engine, and he grabbed Jacques by the arm and tugged him to the jeep.

Jacques pulled away, climbing into his usual spot in the back of the jeep as Cap yelled for everyone to hurry. Barnes climbed beside him, and he nudged Morita over as Monty and Dum Dum wrestled for space in with Gabe and Cap in the front. 

"Hold on!" Cap shouted as the jeep jerked into motion and promptly stalled out. "Fuck!"

Jacques waited for Barnes to say something, because something about Barnes's earlier oddness still pinged his thoughts. But Barnes said nothing, lifting his pistol and firing off two quick shots. Jacques risked a glance behind them, grimacing when he saw a new flood of runners approaching. 

Jacques reached into his pocket, fingering the explosive still there. They were too close to use it, Hydra could come from three directions, and their stolen jeep had moved less than a meter from its original position. 

"Should we get out and push?" Monty muttered, and Cap cursed again from his position twisted around the wheel.

"You should shut up and let me… Ha!" Cap laughed as the engine turned over once again and shot forward with a jerk. "Ready Jacques? Jacques?"

Jacques rolled his eyes, eyeing up his shot. He needed another few seconds to maximize damage to both vehicles and men, and the Captain's fretting always made him groan. 

Finally, the bulk of the two dozen following them were in the tighter area, weaving between the parked jeeps and rushing to climb inside them. Jacques threw, and the explosion was glorious, taking out a large chunk of a jeep. The jeep exploded in a fireball that sent out a fountain of shrapnel, pitting the road and houses, and leaving the men screaming.

Dum Dum whooped, reaching over the seat to thwap Jacques repeatedly with his hat. "That was beautiful!"

There was another crack of gunfire, and Barnes said, "I'm out."

"One behind us," Morita said, passing his pistol to Barnes.

Barnes took aim, swaying into Jacques as Cap swerved along the road. "Just keep driving," he muttered as he fired a shot. "Get us to France." Barnes shot again, and the jeep behind them swerved into the trees lining the road.

"Six shots left. Anyone else get a gun?" 

Dum Dum and Monty both grunted, and Cap nodded. "Should be enough to get us over the border, at least."

"Won't be able to stop," Gabe said quietly. "They know what we're in and where we are."

"And easy enough to guess where we're headed," Monty agreed.

"We'll just have to keep ahead of their news. We can't be far from the border."

"Don't even know where we are," Dum Dum sighed. "We could be halfway to Timbuktu by now."

Jacques shook his head. "We are close to the border. Direction we went, and time, we stopped almost to Germany. But it is only a day across." He paused, then shrugged. "Is not to say if we go too far North and not enough West we would not slide along the border an entire day."

Monty groaned. "So. Who here can determine our direction at night in a blasted forest?"

Everyone except Cap and Barnes looked up at that, but the trees had grown thick overhead and the sky was only visible in brief glimpses.

"We were pointing nearly due West when we got in the jeep," Cap said. "Since then, the road has curved left twice and right once. We shouldn't be pointed north."

"We could also already be in France," Jacques felt compelled to point out.

Monty groaned again. "Just keep driving."

Dum Dum hit Monty with his hat, and everyone lapsed into silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the love for the subscriptions, kudos, and comments. Thank you all so much <3


	4. Howard Fucking Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I direct you to the tags.

Howard Fucking Stark talked more than anyone Steve had ever known in his life. It was amazing that he could hold his head up high after the fiasco that was their trip to Belgium, but he seemed entirely unaffected. Most of what he said was complete bullshit, full of leers and smarmy grins and waggling eyebrows. Things only got worse after the Incident with The Big One, which is how he referred to the… thing… that he was still keeping in his desk, transporting it from command tent to command tent. 

That was how he referred to it, too. Steve could _hear_ the capitalizations. 

It was worse because Jim had heard it. Jim, who usually kept himself out of the worst of the poking, had to mention in the middle of dinner how attached Stark was to The Big One.

Dum Dum smiled like Christmas had come early, and Gabe and Monty burst out laughing. Steve cursed the heat he could feel in his face making his cheeks ache as he stared at his bowl. He could hear conversations around them trailing off, knew people were turning to look.

"The Big One?" Dum Dum was never really quiet, but Steve groaned at the volume that filled the mess tent. "The _Big_ One?" he said again, as if it was a question.

"I hate you," Steve said, shooting Jim a betrayed look. "I hate you so much."

Jacques said something low in French that set Gabe and Monty off again, and Steve turned his look on him. Jacques just shrugged at him, and Steve sighed. 

"So, Cap. What do _you_ think about The Big One?" Dum Dum waggled his eyebrows, leaning over the table.

"Carter incoming." Bucky broke in. Steve swallowed, glancing quickly at Bucky, who looked flushed and uncomfortable, eyes darting from somewhere behind Steve to his own dinner.

Everyone burst out laughing again, but quickly smothered it when Peggy approached the table. "Good evening, gentlemen." She raised an eyebrow as she took in the table, eyes lingering a moment on Steve.

"Evening, Agent." Dum Dum replied with a wide smile, as Monty began snickering again. 

"Dugan. Everything all right here?"

"Oh just fine, ma'am." Dum Dum grinned wider. "But I'm sure you're not wanting to talk to us. You got business with Cap?"

Then Gabe slapped a hand over his mouth as he burst out in guffaws. Bucky elbowed him sharply which only seemed to make him laugh harder. 

Peggy gave them all a cool look. "Not right now. I'm obviously interrupting something."

"Sorry, Peg," Steve offered. "They're being…." He trailed off, unsure what exactly he could call his friends in this situation. Bucky was the only one not giving him grief, and the thought as to why that might be caused his cheeks to flush harder and his stomach to clench.

But he wasn't going to think about that. Not now.

"Indeed. I can see that." Peggy smirked. "Good evening, Steve."

She hadn't made it five feet before most of the table burst back into laughter. The assholes.

***

Alcohol didn't work the same way anymore. Bucky didn't know exactly when it had started, _(a cold gurney, straps tight across his chest, 'James Buchanan Barnes, 32557038')_ the change had been gradual. He drank more, and the rotgut Dum Dum always had stashed was so much stronger than anything he'd had on the regular before leaving Brooklyn. 

It was easy to tell himself he'd just become accustomed. Of course beer wouldn't get him drunk anymore. And it was useful, he'd been a steady hand and eye while everyone else was sawing logs.

He looked down at the two empty bottles before him, plainly visible where the moon shone almost full and bright through where a large section of wall used to be. The whisky he'd dug out of the remains of the bombed out bar was cheap but strong, and he had downed most of the first before feeling the start of a buzz. Now with two inside him, he felt uncomfortably full and in need of a piss, but his head was finally buzzing with alcohol instead of the thoughts that had been circling uncomfortably and sending him here.

Because kissing Steve, _kissing Steve_ , was about the most idiotic thing he could imagine doing. And he'd gone and done it. Not just the imagining he'd been carefully not-doing for he didn't want to think how long.

He rubbed a hand over his face, closing his eyes and wishing for another bottle. Which was of course the moment there was a crash behind him, and he turned to see Steve standing where Bucky had propped the door in the half-collapsed wall.

"There you are." Steve's voice was strained, caught between frightened and fond, just like all their interactions since Bucky'd kissed him. And that was the part that hurt the most. Anyone seeing them together, they'd think things were completely normal, but the divide was obvious to Bucky. The strain in Steve's voice, confusion, worry. He'd known Steve for all his life he cared to count, and the difference between this Steve and the one of a week ago….

It made his gut churn with guilt, that he'd gone and ruined the best thing he ever had. There wasn't enough whisky in the world.

"Buck?" Steve's voice was soft, and Bucky blinked, realizing he'd been staring into space. 

"Wh-- Sorry. Had a lot. Head's not all here." He gave a smirk, feeling it stretch across his face as he pushed himself up off the cracked floor. "Need to take a leak."

"Buck," Steve sighed as Bucky pushed past him. "Bucky, wait."

"Nope. Piss." Bucky gave Steve an awkward pat on the shoulder. 

"How much were you drinking?" 

And now Steve sounded exasperated, and Bucky could feel his jaw clench around the dozen things he wanted to say. Finally he settled on "Not enough, obviously."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Means I'm going to see what else I can dig up." He stumbled away from the partially collapsed building, already reaching into his pants for his dick. The town was long-deserted, and only Steve was close enough to complain when he leaned against the first solid section of wall he came to for support as he relieved himself. 

He wasn't surprised when he tucked himself back in and turned to see Steve still standing there, staring at him. Some part of Bucky wanted to say something, because the expression on Steve's face was one he couldn't even begin to decipher. But he shook his head, pushing his way back into the remains of the bar.

"Buck, wait."

Bucky ignored Steve as he went poking near where he'd found the two previous bottles. The area was filled with shattered glass, and he used the toe of his boot to shift the larger pieces aside. 

"Goddamnit, Bucky."

"Dealing with your bullshit is always easier when I'm a little bit drunk," Bucky muttered under his breath as he gave a sharp kick to the glass.

" _My_ bullshit?" There were quick footsteps behind him, and Bucky didn't have time to turn before Steve had grabbed his arm and spun him around. "What the fuck do you mean _my_ bullshit?"

Bucky tugged his arm, blinking against the feeling that his brain was still spinning inside his skull. "Oh, sorry, I forgot that Steven Fucking Asshole Grant Rogers never has any bullshit to deal with."

"What the fuck are you even talking about?" And now Steve was in Bucky's face, expression mulish and angry and so, so familiar. The disconnect had never seemed sharper. Steve was taller than Bucky, he was shorter, they were in a bombed-out bar somewhere in France, they were in a smelly alley in Brooklyn. Bucky felt formless anger swelling in his gut, and he swung wildly at Steve, shouting when Steve easily dodged the blow. 

Then he stumbled as Steve shoved him back into the wall hard enough to cause it to creak alarmingly. He looked up at Steve, at the frustration and worry and _caring_ in his face and the anger shattered, leaving him weak and sick and wanting.

And then, before he'd even fully registered it, he was leaning in, mouth seeking Steve's. 

Steve straightened, gasping in shock, and Bucky clung to him, sliding his tongue into Steve's mouth and moaning softly under his breath. A moment passed, somewhere between a heartbeat and an eternity, and then Steve relaxed, leaning into Bucky and _kissing him back_. Bucky moaned again, hands loosening their grip to something softer, coaxing. 

And then _Steve_ groaned, and the sound shot straight to Bucky's cock. He clutched at Steve, pulling him closer, aware of the pervasive smell of blood and dust, the sour staleness of Steve's breath, knowing he himself was days off a bath. He didn't care. All that mattered was Steve, and the hot feeling of him pinning Bucky tightly against the wall.

It was everything that first panicked kiss wasn't, in ways Bucky hadn't even been aware of. It was desperate, but unhurried, and Bucky focused on the feeling of Steve's mouth and tongue, committing each press and stroke to memory in a way he hadn't been able to when things had been exploding around them.

And then Steve's hips gave a helpless thrust, and Bucky became suddenly and immediately aware of the thick hardness where Steve's cock pressed against him. He gasped, pulling away from Steve's mouth to try and take in air. Steve's head dropped, and he mouthed along Bucky's jaw and down his neck, beginning to rock in earnest against him. 

Bucky was unable to really match the movement, pressed as tightly into the wall as he was, so he let his hands slide down, tracing the obvious bunching of muscle in Steve's back, before grasping his hips, spreading his own legs a bit to slot them more tightly together.

"Fuck," Steve's breath rushed out before he pulled away and stopped moving, staring down at Bucky. Bucky could read Steve's expression, the way need warred with the knowledge of how _wrong wrong wrong_ this was. Bucky couldn't bear to let Steve think about it. Not when thinking would make Steve _stop_. 

Bucky leaned in and nipped sharply at Steve's jaw, listening to the hitch in his breathing. He didn't want to speak, didn't want to do anything to break this moment. Instead, he rocked as best as he was able, hissing at the press of his cock against Steve's. 

It was enough. Steve's head dropped, heavy and familiar on Bucky's shoulder. Steve's breath was a hot, uneven rasp against his chest, distinct even through Bucky's shirt and jacket. He lifted a hand, twining his fingers into the short hair at the back of Steve's neck, holding his face pressed against him before thrusting again.

Steve keened softly, his own hands grasping Bucky's hips and pulling them in again, increasing the pace. Bucky's breath caught, and Steve's head tilted just enough to press a hot kiss against Bucky's neck. Bucky let his head fall back against the wall with a thunk and closed his eyes, concentrating on the pressure building in his cock. He wanted to touch Steve's skin, to reach out, strip him down, to devour him. But he took a breath, not wanting to think about the things he could not have. All that mattered now was Steve, the fact that in this moment, he _had_ Steve. Steve was pressing Bucky against the wall, thrusting helplessly against him, and it was _Bucky_ who was doing this. 

It made a small, hard part of him glad, that Bucky was the one here with Steve. That he could have this thing, this once. He leaned in again, nosing along Steve's jaw, nudging until Steve gave in and kissed him, tongue sliding smoothly into Bucky's mouth. Bucky sucked gently, swallowing the moan Steve gave in response, before he was pressed tighter, almost painfully so, into the wall.

It was too hot. Steve was a fucking furnace now, and they were both wearing too many layers of uniform. Bucky could feel the fabric between his back and the wall soak with sweat and begin to chafe, even as his balls drew up, high and tight to his body. He pulled away from Steve's mouth, gasping a frantic breath even as he felt himself tip over, and he spilled into his trousers. 

His fingers clutched tightly at Steve's shoulders, clinging for dear life as Steve's thrusting went irregular and desperate, painful against his overly-sensitive cock. But the look on his face, surprise and wonder and, God, Bucky loved him so much….

He leaned in again, pressing frantic kisses to Steve's face before Steve loosened the pressure holding Bucky to the wall, and instead collapsed onto him in a way that felt like 100 pounds of familiar, and Bucky closed his eyes again. 

A moment passed. Bucky pressed another tender kiss to Steve's face, soft and sated, before Steve pulled away completely. "Shit." Bucky blinked. Steve was staring at him, expression twisted by guilt. "I--I need to...." 

Bucky swallowed against the tightness in his throat as the lassitude of orgasm left him in a rush. He tried to tell himself that the muzziness in his head was the alcohol, but he knew _that_ had faded shortly after the first kiss. "Yeah."

Steve watched him a moment longer, before he took another breath and fled. Bucky let his eyelids fall, and then banged his head against the wall behind him. The mess in his pants was cooling, leaving him feeling sticky and dirty in a way that no bath would help. He blinked again, eyes going hot and gritty. If kissing Steve had been a mistake, he was certain he'd just fucked things up much more thoroughly.

***

"Shit shit _shit_." Steve's stomach churned with guilt as he hurried through the abandoned streets. Bucky was _drunk_ and Steve had _kissed_ him. He'd done more than that, the hard voice inside him whispered. He'd pressed Bucky up against the wall, rubbing off on him like a….

And _Peggy_.

" _Shit_." Steve stopped, curling up in the shadow of a standing wall, eyes hot and stomach rolling. He'd just spectacularly fucked everything up. 

For a moment, he wished he'd never gone looking for Bucky. Bucky was fine, would be fine. He had to be fine. He didn't need Steve babysitting him.

Bucky had kissed him in that Hydra town, but it had been fear or the kiss of a brother. Steve didn't need to make it more. Didn't need to take advantage.

Because Steve hadn't thought he was _that_ kind of person. He'd been thinking about Bucky, he _loved_ Bucky. But he had the self control to keep it in his fucking pants.

Except he hadn't. A drunken kiss from Bucky, and he'd given in to the what-ifs that had been living, unacknowledged, in the back of Steve's mind for he didn't know how long. Another hot wave of shame rushed through him. Bucky wouldn't want anything to do with him after this, unable to trust Steve, and rightly so. And Peggy. Steve needed to tell Peggy that she'd been wrong about him. Because if he was the kind of person to not only take advantage of his best friend, but to violate the unspoken promise between himself and Peggy....

Dr. Erskine had asked Steve to remain a good man, and that was the furthest thing from his actions tonight. Tonight he had proven he was the very kind of person he'd spent all his life fighting against.

"Cap!" The shout drew him swiftly out of his head, and he stood up, looking around. Gabe spotted him and made a hurried beeline in his direction. "Phillips radioed in, wants us on the move like yesterday."

Steve cleared his throat, wiping his hands on his coat. He couldn't afford to break down now. "Where are we headed?"

"They're waiting for us Besançon. Want us there by morning."

"Hop to, then." Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, ignoring the look Gabe was giving him. "Everyone else ready to go?"

"Just looking for Barnes. Thought he'd be with you."

Steve concentrated on keeping his expression smooth. "No."

Gabe nodded slowly. "Right. Okay. I'll keep looking." He frowned slightly, then finally offered, "Dum Dum's breaking down the camp."

Steve nodded, grateful for the opening. "I'll go help him. I want to be on the road in 30."

Gabe gave a smirk and faint salute. "Aye Aye, Cap."

***

Dum Dum was whistling when Steve approached, so Steve tipped the bowler off his head. He dodged the swat aimed his way, losing himself in the familiarity of the squabble. Dum Dum jammed the hat back on, grinning in return. "You can tie off the tents then."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve gave a long suffering sigh. "Where's the rest?"

"Damned if I know. Fresno's with the radio in the truck, but Frenchie, Monty and Gabe all left sayin' they were looking for you and Barnes."

"Gabe found me." Steve peered back in the direction of the ruined town, as if his eyes were enough to spot them in the dim. "They better get back soon or we'll leave them."

Dum Dum snorted and grabbed a bundle, chucking it into the truck. "Wake up, Fresno!"

"Fuck off!" Jim's voice was groggy, and Steve focused on finishing the takedown of the camp, letting their argument wash over him.

The three of them were waiting at the packed truck when Bucky, Gabe, Monty, and Jacques finally appeared. Bucky was strung between Gabe and Monty's shoulders, stumbling and laughing and smelling more strongly of whisky than he had when Steve left him. 

Steve suppressed his flinch when Jim let out a low whistle. "Guess we'll just drive slow. With Sarge's head hanging out the back."

Dum Dum snickered around his cigar and Steve elbowed him. "Right you lot. Gotta be Besançon by morning so get a move on."

"Driving!" Gabe shouted, and Jacques muttered something before jabbing him in the ribs. Gabe dropped Bucky's arm, darting toward the driver's seat, elbowing Jacques in return as they jostled at the door.

"Let's pour Barnes into the truck, then." Monty sighed. Gabe had left him hanging onto Bucky's full weight, so Steve approached to take Buck's other side. Bucky smiled up at him, his closed-mouthed grimace smile, and Steve felt his gut clench again in response.

"Everyone in. Let's go!"

***

Bucky didn't get sick in the truck. He closed his eyes, seemingly asleep or passed out, which Steve didn't buy for a minute. But if Bucky wanted to pretend and avoid Steve, Steve owed it to him to allow it. Steve spent the bumpy trip in the back of the truck lost in his thoughts and staring out at the alternating shadows of the dark fields and forests. 

Dum Dum, Monty, and Jim were all actually asleep until Gabe's voice carried through the cabin. "Twenty minutes out."

"Thanks, Gabe."

They pulled into the large camp as the sun crested the horizon. People were already moving about the camp, dashing in and out of the command tent, and Gabe parked the truck beside Phillips' battered jeep.

Bucky sat up when the car stopped, but made no move to get out until Steve had left. Steve had scarcely set foot to the ground before Phillips' voice rang out, "Rogers! In! Now! Rest of you lot, resupply-- cold weather. You're heading out after lunch."

Steve hurried into the tent, ignoring the half-assed salutes Bucky and the rest shot to the area at large, and felt his stomach drop when Peggy smiled warmly at him from the opposite side of the table.

"We've got Zola." Phillips didn't wait, and Steve felt his breath catch as Zola's name dragged him into painful focus. "Zola is going to be on the Schnellzug traveling through Switzerland towards the Austrian border tomorrow. He's been summoned by Schmidt, something about a Project Valkyrie."

"There are very few tracks along the route that can be used by a train the size and speed of the Schnellzug." Peggy continued. She drew a red nail along the map. "So we know he's going to use this," and she slid her finger over, "or this. At their nearest point along a pass through the Alps, they are less than 200 meters from each other."

Steve leaned over the map. "Either side of the gorge, it looks like. But doable."

Peggy smiled at Steve, and Steve attempted to smile in return. Something must have shown, because her expression dropped. Luckily, Phillips broke in. "I don't think I need to explain how important this is. Zola has information. Getting him could win us the war."

"Yes, Sir." Steve nodded, attention dropping gratefully back to the map. "If we set up here…." He trailed off, pointing to the spot on the edge of the gorge where each track would pass.

"We'll be able to give you a two hour window. We've spotters along both lines. But you'll need to be there by daybreak."

"And set up." Steve nodded. "Two hours isn't going to be enough to do anything except tell us which track they're on."

"Then you better get going. Take the Half-track. You'll be on goat paths to get into position, and we've not run the path in three months. There may be surprises."

"Yes, Sir."

Steve gave a distracted salute as Phillips left, uncomfortably aware that he was now alone in the tent with Peggy. Who was frowning at him. 

"I've the keys in my tent." When Steve didn't reply, her frown deepened. "Steve?"

"I slept with Bucky." 

Peggy's expression went blank in shock and Christ, that was completely not how he had wanted to do this. He'd not wanted to do it at all, had half-convinced himself that it was better not to. Only the knowledge that no one deserved his lying, not Peggy, not Bucky, not for something like protecting himself from the consequences of his choices. 

"What?" Peggy's expression turned icy, and Steve opened his mouth, but Peggy continued right over him. "I do believe you've told me that you…" Peggy's jaw clenched tightly, shutting off the flow of words. 

"I'm sorry," he choked out. 

"For what, precisely?" Peggy's words were clipped hard and sharp as glass. "What is sorry? If you were sorry, why did you do it?"

"It's not…"

"It's not what?" 

And that was the point where Steve knew he could deny everything. Find excuses. Say that he'd not wanted Bucky, never had done, that it had all been a mistake, that he regretted everything about it. But he couldn't lie to Peggy, he loved her too much. And he couldn't do that to Bucky. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

Peggy's expression crumpled at that, and Steve felt the sick twist of guilt rise up again. "Get out."

"Peg--"

"We _will_ talk when you get back. I will have many, many things to say to you then." 

"I--"

"Get _out_ , Steve!"

Steve backpedaled quickly at her shout, knowing that the last thing she'd want now was for him to watch her break down. He didn't realize until he stood staring at the flap that she still had the keys to the truck.

Everyone was kitted up, waiting at the Half-track when Steve made it to them, feeling like hell.

"Heading into the Alps. Got a lead on Zola. I'm driving."

Everyone glanced nervously at Bucky, but Steve busied himself with his bag. Bucky said nothing, as silent as he'd been all day. 

Then Dum Dum spoke up. "You sure that's a good idea, Cap?"

"Yes. Get in."

Bucky climbed into the back, readying his rifle. Dum Dum shrugged and climbed into the front and Gabe followed Morita and Monty into the back with Bucky. Steve reached under the wheel, fiddling the console open with the ease of practice.

"You don't have the key?" Dum Dum shouted as the engine turned over.

"Nope."

***

Gabe had known something was wrong before they'd broke camp the night before. Finding Cap alone, and he had no hope of ever hiding _anything_ on that face of his, had made him think it, but the state Barnes had been in.

He'd thought they'd had a fight. And the two of them, close as brothers, it was bound to happen. But looking between them now, Barnes's expression so blank, Steve looking like death warmed over, he wondered.

He knew he'd not get anything out of them directly, though. He glanced around, nothing but snow and trees for miles.

So after several hours of awkward silence, he leaned in, voice quiet. "Think something's wrong with Cap?"

Gabe knew Cap heard him, he could tell by the slight tensing of his shoulders, but Barnes's focus behind them broke immediately, and he glanced between Gabe and Cap.

 _"What are you on about?"_ Jacques asked in French.

 _"Something happened between them, maybe a fight."_ Gabe answered in kind. _"I don't know what, but he was looking like _that_ when I found him last night, too."_

Jacques and Monty both frowned and looked at Cap. 

_"So we're getting their heads out of their asses so they don't fuck up the mission?"_ Jacques nodded, his expression worried. 

_"They'll need to resolve it. This prize is too valuable, it won't be an easy fight."_ Monty added.

Barnes was getting especially twitchy at all the French, and Cap's shoulders were halfway to his ears. 

Morita glanced between them, finally giving a shake of his head and a huffed breath. "One of these days, more than the three of you will understand French. And it still won't be worth listening to."

"One of these days, you'll speak French and we can discuss Cap's life with you, too." Monty laughed.

Cap turned in his seat, face red and expression livid, when Dum Dum shouted, "Cap!" and Gabe saw Dum Dum grab Cap by the arm and yank the steering wheel sharply to the right. Gabe and Jacques toppled from the bench, landing on the floor of the truck as the Half-track rocked. 

"What the fuck?" Barnes was clutching his rifle for with one hand, the other white-knuckled on the side of the truck, when the very nearby sound of an explosion set everyone scrambling.

"Shit." Cap spun the wheel again, and Gabe braced himself between the sets of benches as the Half-track lurched left. 

"What--"

"Landmines!" Dum Dum shouted.

"Trees!" Barnes yelled in response, just as Cap lurched the truck again.

"I _see_ them." Cap gritted out. Gabe could tell by the set of his shoulders that Cap was about two words from turning around again to yell at Barnes directly, and he sent a mental plea skyward to whoever was listening to save them all from Steve Rogers being a goddamn idiot.

"Then work on _not hitting them_ you punk!" Barnes retorted.

Gabe shared a glance with Jacques and Morita, who rolled his eyes at him. Then there was an explosion close enough to tip them and Barnes nearly fell off the truck. Monty scrambled, grabbing a strap and a boot, pulling Barnes back to the seat in time for Cap to shout "Hold on!" as the Half-track rocked back to level.

"Thanks for that," Monty muttered.

"Why the fuck are we speeding through landmines?" Gabe asked, quite logically he thought. "Shouldn't we be taking this slowly so we don't _blow ourselves up_?" He found himself shouting at the end, trying to be heard as yet another explosion caused the truck to tip.

"Why do we ever let Cap drive? Didn't we agree not to do that anymore?" Morita responded, bracing his feet on the radio to keep it from tumbling across the floor.

 _"Obviously we are all idiots."_ Jacques muttered, glaring toward the front of the truck.

"Oh fuck me," Gabe clutched as the halftrack rocked up on its side as Cap made another sharp jerk of the wheel, and he stared straight across at the snowy ground. "Driving over the landmines would be better than this!" he shouted toward the front.

"We're going to die," Jim said, almost conversationally. "We're not going to make it to Zola, we're not going to make it up the mountains, we're all going to die here."

"Shut up, Jim," Barnes muttered, words drowned out by the sound of another explosion.

"How many of those things did they put up here?" Monty wailed as rock and snow pelted the side of the halftrack, the explosion hitting close enough that everyone ducked. "Don't they have anything better to do with their time?"

Cap gave another burst of speed, and Jacques closed his eyes and crossed himself across the chest. 

"Stop!" Dum Dum shouted, panic in his voice.

"Shit!" Cap slammed on the brakes and sent the Half-track skidding another several yards forward.

"Fuck!" Dum Dum clutched his hat. "Fucking fuck! Holy Mary Mother of God, Cap. You are _never_ fucking driving again."

"We're fine." Cap muttered mutinously. "You're fine. We made it."

Dum Dum pointed over the nose of the truck. "That's a cliff!"

Cap leaned forward a bit in his seat. "Eh. We've feet to spare."

Then Dum Dum hit him, which Gabe couldn't blame him for at all. Barnes looked like he wanted to shoot all of them.

**

They hiked the final mile up the mountain under the bright light of the moon. When they reached the summit, Gabe and Jim wasted no time setting up the radio while Dum Dum cleared a camp and Monty and Bucky did a perimeter sweep.

Steve turned to Jacques. "Think you can string us a line?"

Jacques nodded. "You find which track, I get you there."

He clapped a hand on Jacques's shoulder and approached the radio. "Anything yet?"

"We're connected." Jim fiddled with the dials. "May be able to listen in on them when they're close enough, too, if they're still on the same frequency."

He sighed, a weight loosening from his shoulders. "That would be good news."

Gabe gave a faint smile at that, but didn't meet his eyes and Steve was reminded of the conversation in the truck. Steve sighed. "Right. Gabe, you're first watch with Dum Dum. Keep an ear on the radio. As soon as we hear from Phillips, we've a two-hour window. Wake up Jacques then everyone else."

Steve looked around, making sure everyone was near enough to hear. "If you don't hear anything in the next three hours, wake Jim to take over. Jim, you'll be with me. Same rules apply. If we've not heard anything by daybreak, Jacques, I want lines to both tracks."

Jacques held up his hands, muttering something in French that made Gabe snort, but everyone else nodded. It was as good as he'd get. "Okay, get some sleep if you can. Gabe, Dum Dum, you good?" 

"Yup."

Steve sighed. "Right."

Everyone moved off, Gabe and Dum Dum huddled together against the radio, and the rest climbing into the tent to get what sleep they could. Steve knew he should do the same; it had been a long day before he and Bucky had….

The thought of closing his eyes terrified him, even as exhaustion threatened to pull him under. He wanted to sleep, to close his eyes and wake up and have the past 36 hours be a dream. Because then, he'd had whatever the _could be_ was with Peggy, and Bucky. 

He'd had Bucky.

And that loss hurt the most. 

***

Steve was relieved when Jim didn't seem to want to talk at all. He just slid the headphones over his head and closed his eyes, to all appearances back asleep in an instant. He'd listened to Dum Dum's snores, the familiar sounds of the rest sleeping.

He didn't think about the part of himself that knew Bucky well enough to hear that he didn't sleep at all, either. It was a relief when Jim sat up in the purple light before dawn. "North track."

Steve nodded, pushing himself off the cold ground. He approached the tent and slapped the side. "Jacques, everyone, we've got a little over an hour to set up."

Jacques came crawling out first, looking rumpled but alert. "North track," Steve said. Jacques was off immediately. Bucky was the next out, still working his buttons. Monty shoved him aside and nearly toppled himself when Dum Dum came out right on his heels.

"Zola's train is coming down that track in two hours or less. Jacques is setting the lines. We'll slide down, me, Buck, Gabe. Dum Dum and Monty, you're backing up Jim and the radio. Jim, radio Phillips when we're on the train. Gabe, you'll be in charge of the radio on the train once we've secured Zola. Contact Jim then Phillips."

"Got it."

Steve looked around, everyone looking ready and eager in the dim light. He exhaled, letting the feeling of an impending mission settle over him. He knew he'd have to deal with it again later, and the thought of seeing Peggy again when this was done caused his gut to clench in warning, but now he had more important things to focus on.

"Good. Monty keep watch, let us know as soon as you see a hint of that train. Dum Dum, make sure Jacques has everything he needs. Everyone else, get ready."

Steve moved to stand overlooking the tracks, watching as Jacques set the line, shooting it out and down, disappearing in the mist. He was surprised when a bit later, he felt a familiar shoulder ram softly against his arm.

"This thing moves as fast as they say, we may not have time to get three on." Bucky's voice was quiet, but the fact that he'd initiated contact caused Steve's stomach to both lift and plummet at once.

"We'll have to go quick. Gabe's got the best chance of working the radio, and we're the best choices to deal with anything we might run into on the train itself."

Bucky huffed a laugh. "If you say so, Cap." 

Steve looked over and saw that Bucky was staring into the gorge, a faint smile twisting his lips. Steve swallowed and glanced down again when he found himself staring. He wasn't going to think about that night, not now. It was enough that Bucky was there, a solid warmth beside him.

Finally, Bucky broke the silence. "Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?"

Steve fought a smile, taking the statement as the olive branch it was. "Yeah, and I threw up?"

"This isn't payback, is it?"

Steve glanced over again, caught by Bucky's smile. Something in his expression, some openness, made his heart thump in his chest. He smiled in return. "Why would I do that?"

***

Swinging down the wire over the Schnellzug was high up on Bucky's _'never doing this again'_ list. Steve was an idiot. A reckless idiot who was going to end up splattered on the tracks or in the gorge below.

And Bucky wasn't ready to be without him. He'd never be ready. And if Steve was willing to pretend that Bucky had never taken advantage, Bucky would cling to that friendship with both hands and never let it go.

And then they got fucking separated. Bucky knew something was going to go wrong. He didn't spend a lot of time thinking about Zola, it was hard to focus on anything but the freezing table at his back and the constant stream of _talking_ while Zola shoved fire and ice under his skin, but Zola was a rat. He'd always find a bolt hole, and the door sliding shut between himself and Steve and…

He was pretty sure he wasn't going to make it out of this one. That was the feeling that overwhelmed him when he saw Steve's panicked face against the glass of the door separating them.

Then time seemed to slow as the familiar sound of gunfire started behind him. 

The train car had cover, large boxes and pipes filled the center and sides. But what gave cover to him also provided cover to the door on the far side of the car. He counted five down before his Thompson ran out of ammo and he had to pull the Colt.

He couldn't think about the noises behind him. He told himself that the loud thumps and explosions were a good sign, that it meant Steve was still in there, still being _Steve_ , even without Bucky there to protect him.

Steve would be alright. It was all he could think while he waited, slowing his breath and holding his shot until the man with the black mask came around the shelf and Bucky put a bullet between his eyes. He needed to move, to find a better angle. He would be able to hold them at the doorway if only he could get a shot on it.

He heard two more explosions from the car behind him and he took a breath, firing down the car as he moved. He was better positioned, and he was able to get another mook before his gun clicked. 

He closed his eyes briefly, feeling his stomach sink as he tucked himself more tightly into cover. He had a chance, if he could get a gun away from one of the Hydra agents….

It wasn't much of a chance, but it was something. 

Then there was a hiss, and he glanced up to see Steve standing, whole and safe and not even out of breath, at the now-open door. The relief in that moment was dizzying, and he caught the gun Steve tossed him with a grin, certain this was the instant when the situation turned. And sure enough, in the next moment, Steve and Bucky stood alone on the train car.

"I had him on the ropes," Bucky said, grinning at Steve.

"I know you did," Steve nudged his shoulder, his smile tentative but warm.

Then there was a hiss and a hum, and Bucky _knew_ that sound, the sound of the blue light Hydra weapons. Steve shoved him down, ducking behind his shield, as the force of the blast deafened him. For a moment Bucky felt like he was deep underwater, nothing but pressure and humming in his ears. But he saw Steve sprawled on the ground, his shield lying at Bucky's feet. 

His heart lodged somewhere in his throat, and he reached for the shield. He didn't feel the weight; the only thing he knew was he had to protect Steve. 

He shot twice. He knew the shots were good, could _feel_ them land, though it didn't seem to cause a reaction. Then there was another flash, and a feeling that stole his breath like he'd been punched, and he went flying.

He wasn't certain how he'd managed to grab the side of the train. Hadn't even realized until he was clinging to the side that he'd been blown out of the train entirely. And then Steve, beautiful idiot Steve, was climbing out toward him.

He could feel the cold, the wind caused by the speed of the train causing his eyes to water and stealing his breath. Steve was reaching for him, leaning too far out. Bucky reached, felt the bar slip. 

Then Steve and the train, speeding further away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! Yeah. That happened. 
> 
> The working title of this fic was actually "guilty angst frotting and DEATH" for a long time. Mostly because it made firethesound make sad noises and tell me to stop sounding so excited about it. 
> 
> This chapter is entirely my fault, and was planned before the 30 exploding dildos. If you have complaints, please bring them to me (I have a [tumblr](http://eidheann.tumblr.com/)) and let firethesound remain with her fingers in her ears going LALALALALA YOU ARE SO HORRIBLE.


	5. Tony, No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So realtalk. I know that I cliffhanger'd at the absolute worst place, but this chapter was full of anxiety for me. I intentionally skipped TWS (because it didn't need any changes to be absolute stucky perfection) but I knew everyone would WANT TWS so I ended up going back and forth and around and around until my friends were all ready to smack me.
> 
> So please, assume completely canon-compliance with TWS going into this. Thank you for your patience, your comments, and your kudos. This will complete next week on schedule. <3

After everything -- after crashing the Valkyrie and fighting aliens. After seeing Bucky's face on an enemy's body. After falling from the Helicarrier and spending a year tracking cold leads. After fighting with Ultron and then Tony and then Ultron again. After Peggy's funeral and the bomb at the UN, nothing prepared him for the sight of Bucky standing across a small one-room apartment, looking whole and real and _alive_.

Bucky was the only thing that had made his chest feel tight since the serum, and the beating of his heart was clear in the quiet of the apartment.

Of course things promptly went to shit. Bucky ran, Steve followed (because it was _Bucky_ and he would follow Bucky into the deepest pits of hell) and they both ended up detained.

By the time he was fishing Bucky out of the river, he was feeling entirely done, and was more than happy to let Sam take point, getting them away and hidden. He hadn't even had the energy to give more than a token protest when Sam had clamped the metal hand in a hydraulic press.

"You've still got his fingerprints around your neck, man," Sam said, shaking his head and staring at Steve like he was crazy. "We don't know who's gonna wake up."

"Something happened to him in there, Sam."

Sam sighed, clapping a hand on Steve's shoulder and pulling him into a hug. "I know. And believe me, I'm kicking myself that the guy in there with him got away. But we gotta deal with what is, not what we want. And _what is_ means we don't know if we've got your man or the Winter Soldier in there. And I've had my fill of Winter Soldier for one life, thanks."

Steve let out a wet-sounding laugh and let his head fall on Sam's shoulder. "I don't know what to do."

Sam stood quiet for a moment, though his arms tightened around Steve. "The Winter Soldier is contained. We have time to decide."

"What if it's Bucky?" Steve hated how hopeful he sounded in that moment.

"Then we still have time to decide." Sam sounded certain with that, and Steve took some comfort from the feeling that _someone_ had his shit together. "And your man can actually answer questions." The _he had better_ was obvious in Sam's tone.

Steve stood silently, taking the comfort of Sam's hug before the words couldn't be held back any more. "We… I slept with him."

Sam tensed, then took an obvious breath. "I'm gonna assume you're talking about a 1940s thing you two had, because I _know_ you haven't had that kind of privacy."

"It--" Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Once. It was just before he…."

"Shipped out?" Sam straightened a bit, and Steve could feel his steady gaze on him. Steve shook his head and Sam sighed. "Man, no matter you're messed up." He sounded so exasperated that Steve found himself laughing. "No, I get it. Was it a big gay crisis thing?" 

Steve pulled away, still smiling in spite of himself. "No. More of a…" he felt his smile fall and dropped his gaze. "Bucky was drunk. He kissed me, and I.... I didn't even really think about it, not until after."

"Bullshit." Sam glared at him, arms crossed over his chest. "I know the Steve Rogers _I'm feeling guilty_ face."

"We never talked about it. There was no time. And then Bucky fell." Steve crossed his own arms, feeling the defensiveness of the posture. "I shouldn't have taken advantage."

"Uh-huh," Sam just waited, gaze expectant.

"And, um. Peggy." 

Steve grimaced at Sam's surprised expression. "So wait. Run that by me again. I kinda assumed that you and Peggy Fucking Carter had a thing, it's in all the history books, but you're telling me you really had _that_ and went hitting on your best friend, too? How did you have time to fight a war, Captain Asshole?"

"It wasn't… We… Not like that. I told Peggy what happened, but... And then…. And then he died." He huffed a breath. "We finally talked about it 70 years later."

"Hey." Sam nudged him. "I'm saying this as your friend. If you cheated on Carter, that was an asshole thing to do. But if she forgave you, and I'm assuming she did or you wouldn't be looking at me like that, then she's the one who decides your guilt. Get me?"

Steve shrugged and Sam sighed. "Seriously, you've been wearing this weight around your neck for years, now. You're human. You screwed up. And I'm not gonna touch on if the bigger screw up was the Great Bisexual Crisis of 1944 or the cheating thing, because that's way outside of my pay grade. Unfortunately, you also had the shittiest timing in the history of mankind and there were all kinds of extenuating circumstances so you couldn't deal with this shit when it was something you could actually deal with, but that part of it isn't your fault. Cheating is an asshole thing to do. Don't do it anymore. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Right. I'm officially washing my hands of this bullshit. I never thought I'd need to specify, but I don't want to know _anything_ else about your sex life. Ever."

Steve gave a faint, bitter laugh, quickly silenced by a crash. 

"Check the door, I'll check your man," Sam shoved Steve toward the door and turned and hurried the other direction.

***

Bucky knew his brain was scrambled. He remembered things, not everything, but things. Some were things he didn't want, some were things he did, but there was no line. Memory was a series of individual images or moments, so while he could remember, _know_ that a memory from Brooklyn, one of the hundreds of times he'd patched Steve up after he'd run off at the mouth and gotten the licking he'd deserved, occurred before he'd ever killed a man, his brain gave them equal connection, colored red with blood. 

It meant that he knew things, but didn't always know that he knew them until he did something like walk up to a tiny Volkswagen, parked and seemingly abandoned beside a warehouse, with Steve and Wilson and stop in his tracks when Steve jimmied open the driver side door.

"We're not letting Steve drive," he stated with a certainty he felt deep in his bones.

Wilson's hand dropped to the gun at his side as he eyed Bucky, which Bucky could acknowledge was smart of him, but still irked because he was _right_ , damnit. Steve driving was a mistake. 

Steve's jaw jutted out, and his face began to flush in a way that was both achingly familiar and entirely new. "That was eighty years ago." 

"You're the one who decided the best way to get through landmines was to _go faster_ instead of avoid them." Bucky didn't really remember any of that until he said it, but he could feel now the terror and the cold and the explosions.

Wilson turned his attention on Steve at that, eyebrows high up on his face, while Steve stepped toward Bucky, chin out, if possible, even further than it had been. "We were fine."

"You almost drove us off a cliff!"

"But I didn't."

"You drove straight at a tank!"

Steve blinked. "You weren't there for that."

Wilson burst in, "Wait, you drove into a tank and you're not denying it or anything?"

"I didn't drive _into_ it. I just waited until it fired to get out of the way. It blew up the car behind me." Steve turned to look at Bucky, as if that was a real excuse. "But Bucky wasn't there for that."

Bucky frowned, because he was sure… "Oh. It was in a debrief. I read it."

"Your only objection to this entire conversation is _Barnes wasn't there for that_?"

Steve flapped a hand at Wilson, who looked caught somewhere between amused and appalled. "When did you read that?"

"I…" Bucky frowned, because this was the exact sort of question his brain wasn't good at answering for him. "I read it," he finally repeated, helplessly. If he closed his eyes, he could see the type-written notes, papers creamy and lit with warm yellow lantern light where they lay on a honeyed wood table, could probably recite what they'd said, but he had no context connecting the reading of the debrief to anything around it. 

Steve's expression fell at that, and Bucky's stomach twisted. The silence shifted to awkward, and Wilson spoke up. "Okay, so we still need to actually get in the car." He glanced between the both of them. "I ain't walking to Germany."

Bucky felt pinned in place, caught by the sad expression on Steve's face. He opened his mouth, but no words came. Finally he nodded and dropped his gaze to the ground, moving slowly toward the car.

"Shotgun," Wilson said. Bucky blinked at him and Wilson shrugged. "Steve's not gonna drive us at any tanks," and he shot Steve a glare, "but I know that I don't know how to hotwire a car. And, full offense, man, but you're not driving me anywhere."

Steve got all up at that; Bucky could tell even without looking. "Wouldn't expect you to," he offered, hopefully heading off Steve's righteous indignation on his behalf before it could get started.

Wilson nodded, completely ignoring Steve in a way Bucky instantly recognized as being the result of a lot of time spent together. He knew they were friends, and felt simultaneous relief and jealousy that they had that kind of relationship. Steve needed people to watch his back, needed people to call him on his bullshit, and Bucky wasn't that anymore. He wasn't sure _what_ he was.

He swallowed, nodding slightly to Wilson, trusting him to catch his meaning, and climbed into the back seat.

***

Sam was beginning to think Barnes was right with the whole _not letting Steve drive_ thing. Things had gone pretty well until sometime after crossing the Czech border. The drive was quiet, traffic was relatively smooth, no sinister black vans were following them, and murder-eyes in the back seat was keeping his mouth shut.

Then Steve got impatient or something, Sam had no idea. They rounded a curve in the road, the car in front of them slowing with the traffic, and Steve whipped around them with a low grumble. Barnes made a noise, not even an unsurprising noise given the speed Steve had swerved, just a surprised one. Suddenly, Steve's jaw tightened, and Sam could see the indicator on the speedometer move from nearly straight up to back around toward 4 o'clock.

Sam glanced in the rear view, which gave him pretty much nothing but a look at Barnes's blank face, before he looked back at Steve. "In a hurry?"

Barnes snorted, and Steve's jaw went even harder. "Nope." 

"Just gotta get there faster," Barnes murmured lowly, and Steve whipped around to glare at him. Sam was suddenly reminded of car trips with his sister back when his dad taped a line up the middle of the back seat to try and keep them contained.

Neither of them had been driving, though. "Watch the road!"

There was the distinct slap of hand against flesh behind him, and Steve turned his glare on Sam. "I _am_ watching the road."

Sam clutched at his seatbelt, and Steve looked forward again in time to whip around another, slower vehicle.

"Now you've done it," Barnes muttered. "Going to be all pissy the rest of the day…."

Steve's knuckles whitened and Sam squeezed his eyes shut. "Not helping."

"Fuck you both, I'm an excellent driver." Steve swerved again, and Sam didn't even know why because he was so not opening his eyes again until the car was stopped.

"Steve!" Barnes's voice was urgent, and Sam's eyes snapped open in time to see Steve barreling up behind one of those weird tiny European big rigs that always reminded him of Tonka Trucks. It was still much larger than a VW Beetle however, and he resisted the urge to close his eyes again. Steve tugged the wheel, car bouncing onto the embankment and around the truck, skidding when it slotted in front of it again.

"What happened to not attracting attention? I think all three of us are wanted by most of the countries in the world, and your boy in the back has an appointment with a firing squad if we're caught."

Steve's foot came off the gas, and he slowed until he was going exactly the speed of the car in front of them, jaw locked tight the entire time. Sam had never seen such passive aggressive driving before, and he'd been driving on the Beltway during evening rush most days for the past several years. Barnes huffed a sigh, and Sam barely kept himself from rolling his eyes as the speedometer started creeping up again.

Then traffic caught in a snarl, and slowed to a crawl in front of them as far as they could see, and Sam could _feel_ the frustration coming off Steve in waves of huffed sighs and grinding teeth.

"Man, are you twelve or what?" Sam finally responded, even though he _knew_ he was making a mistake drawing attention to Steve's attitude.

"He's not bright enough to be twelve," Barnes muttered. "That's quality five year old Steve Rogers, there."

"You only wish you were half as bright as me when you were five."

"You only wish you--"

"Shut up," Sam interrupted. "Both of you just shut up and act like fucking normal people. I _cannot_ believe you are arguing about this right now."

There was a moment of silence and then Barnes muttered, "I was brighter'n _you_ when I was five."

"It's true." Steve said. "Ran faster, too."

"I hate you both," Sam sighed as the traffic began moving again. "I want you to know that."

Steve just drove faster.

***

Bucky closed his eyes as the Quinjet soared north. The fate of the others weighed heavy on him, adding to the layer of guilt that lurked, waiting, always _there_. 

Steve was staring at the controls. Bucky could tell by the sound of his gloves flexing, the shifting of his seat. He was struck once again with the painful familiarity of Steve, like there wasn't Bucky and Steve, but some hybrid creature made of the two of them, intertwined in a way that would never really pull apart.

Mostly, it made him tired. There was no way this was going to turn out well, and Steve had given too much. He'd sacrificed his team, and Bucky was certain Steve would do as he said, would find a way to get them back, but the people who were close to Steve, that had stood by him while Bucky was in Hydra control, or simply hiding, learning to be human again, were suffering directly because of him.

And he wasn't worth it. Because what Steve had said was true, but what Bucky had said was true as well. What was one life against the lives of six?

"Y'know what? No."

Bucky blinked his eyes open as Steve pressed the autopilot and spun around in his chair.

"Steve--"

"No. You're being stupid. I can hear the stupid coming off you from here."

Bucky's mouth quirked in spite of himself. "I thought that was you."

"Shut up." Steve dragged his hand over his face. "I'm worried about them, okay? All of them. But they can take care of themselves while we sort this out."

"You can't honestly think that this is going to ever be sorted." Bucky clung to his chair. If he got up, gave in to the urge to pace, he'd run again. "Even if you prove the bombing wasn't me, they won't let me go. I'm too valuable, either as a scapegoat or a weapon."

Steve's jaw was tight, stupidly stubborn as always, and Bucky sighed around the ache deep in his chest. "You can't hold everyone off forever, Steve."

"No. I don't accept that."

"Steve--"

"No! That is not how this is going to end."

"You can't stubborn your way out of reality, Steve, for chrissakes." Bucky took a deep breath, attempting to calm the shaking in his flesh hand. "You should take the advantage. You can trade me for the rest of the team, a better go of the Accords."

"No--"

"I can make things better, Steve." Bucky swallowed through the lump in his throat, smiling weakly. "For the first time in 80 years, I can make something better for once."

Steve shook his head, face hard, and Bucky ached for him like hunger. He looked down, pushing the _want_ away, wishing that it was one of the things his brain didn't remember. Love Steve, yes. He always had done. But he couldn't want him, couldn't _keep_ him. He'd known that from the beginning.

He could only protect him. So he cleared his throat, changed the subject. "We've another four hours, you think?"

Steve gave him a flat look. "Yes."

"How are we going to do this? The original plan included backup."

Steve sat in silence a moment, muscle in his jaw jumping, before he answered. "We'll just have to go slower."

"Don't…" Bucky trailed off, biting his lip. "Don't let him activate the Winter Soldier again. Take me out before he finishes the words. Things'll be bad enough with the other ones in there."

Steve's expression fell again, and Bucky clung to that small hurt. He knew it was important, and knew it would distract Steve from whatever comes after.

"Knock me out, tranq me, whatever it takes. You need to do that, Steve. Please."

Steve closed his eyes and nodded.

***

It was surprisingly easy to fall back into Mission Mode with Bucky. For all they'd spent more time apart than they'd spent fighting together with the rest of the Commandos, it was easy to trust that Bucky had his back.

Bucky had always had his back.

When the door squealed behind them, and the familiar sound of Tony's suit carried into the room before he came visible, they spun as one as if they'd never been apart. 

"Whoa, whoa. I come in peace." Tony held out his hands, repulsors pointed out at the wall and let the faceplate of the Iron Man suit fold back. He looked a little worse for wear, and Steve found himself scanning him for injuries. 

"Tony." Steve kept his shield high and readied, ignoring the barrel of Bucky's rifle in his periphery. 

"So. Funny thing happened. Seems the doctor who was supposed to check out your buddy back there got himself a tiny case of murdered and replaced." Tony continued to advance slowly toward them, and Steve relaxed his stance slightly. "And I thought to myself, _Self? Doesn't this sound like something Steve warned you about?_ " 

Tony came to a stop and waved a hand. "Could you do less with the gun and the pointing? Please? I'm trying to be the bigger man here, admit I'm wrong."

Steve nodded, lowering his shield and feeling Bucky relax his stance behind him. 

"It's good to see you, Tony." Steve was surprised by how much he meant those words. "How's Rhodey?"

Tony's jaw twitched. "Oh, you know. Alive. Hospital. Best doctors money can buy. All that." 

Steve nodded. "I'm sorry."

Tony twitched again. "We can deal with that later. He's going to be…." Tony took a deep breath. "Right now I'd like to take some of my anger out on the people who got us into this situation in the first place. Which, I am told, is who we after."

"We aren't sure what his name is, but he seems to go most often by Zemo. And there are six other Winter Soldiers in this base."

Tony's eyes widened and flickered over Steve's shoulder to where Bucky was still standing. Steve could hear as Bucky shifted under the scrutiny.

"Okay." Tony's voice was tight and the helmet folded back over his face. "We need to get going, then. What's the plan, Cap?"

"Stop Zemo from waking them up?"

"Brilliant plan. Couldn't have done it better myself." 

Bucky snorted quietly and Tony looked up at him again. "Ha. The Murder Popsicle has a sense of humor!"

Steve frowned. "His name is Bucky." 

"Oh calm down. It's fine." Tony waved a hand. "He's more a Grievous Bodily Harm Popsicle, anyway. We've apparently got some actual Murder Popsicles to deal with."

"Let's hope not," Bucky murmured, and Steve turned his back on Tony to squeeze Bucky's arm. Bucky looked down at him, expression more open and _Bucky_ than Steve had seen in decades, and his breath caught with the rush of want that filled him.

He'd not let himself think about Bucky like that, even after confessing to Sam. And here, in the worst moment and the worst place, he could feel the heat low in his gut that wanted Bucky, that loved Bucky and always had done.

He dropped his gaze as Bucky's expression closed off and he turned and started back up the stairs. Steve could only follow.

***

"They're not supposed to have holes in them, are they?" Stark's voice echoed through the silo, and Bucky could feel the tension crawling up his spine. 

"No," Steve's voice sounded strained as he looked around, glove creaking as it tightened and loosened against the strap of the shield. 

Bucky slowly spun in place, attention shying away from the chair still set up and ready in the center of the room. He tried to find anything out of place, anything that could hint at what Zemo was planning. Six of the seven cryo tubes were still lit up and leaking coolant from a single bullet hole in each, and each contained a soldier slumped dead inside.

It was so far from their expectations, and in this situation surprises were the most dangerous thing they could face.

There was a sudden rush of air and noise as all the doors slammed shut and locked. "It was good of you to join me." The voice carried over the hiss of speakers, and everyone quickly regrouped on each other as they searched for the source. "I can't say how happy I am to see the three of you here together."

A light flipped on behind one of the small porthole windows that lined the circumference of the silo and everyone turned to face it. The man behind was familiar, completely inconspicuously _ordinary_ , but instantly recognizable from when he'd activated Bucky, and Bucky felt his arm recalibrate in stress.

"What do you want?" Steve spoke as Stark stepped away and raised his palm toward the window.

"I suggest you not do that, Mr. Stark." Zemo gave a small smile. "I promise you, Hydra built this to withstand worse than you can manage."

"You sure about that? I can manage a lot."

"I am, but to answer your question, Captain Rogers, I have exactly what I want. You three, here with me now."

"Why?" Steve sounded completely bewildered, and Bucky looked around, certain that _something_ was going to happen.

"Why? To speak with you, of course."

"Is this when you do your super villain monologue thing?" Stark asked. "Villains always do the monologue thing."

"No Mr. Stark." Zemo gave another small smile, and Bucky stepped further away from the other two to try to spread the targets. "I am simply making conversation. It is the least I can do, after all, since you won't be leaving here."

There was a silence, before Steve straightened his shoulders, dropping his shield slightly. "Why did you shoot them?"

"Why wouldn't I? The Winter Soldier program was a failure." Zemo turned his attention to Bucky at that, still smiling. "Humans are so erratic; programming doesn't stick and loyalty can never be guaranteed, especially after administering the serum." 

"But…" Steve glanced back at the tubes, then to Zemo. "And Vienna?"

"Much of Hydra was lost or stolen in the wake of Project Insight." Zemo's smile grew, becoming something warm and almost joyful. "You Avengers have been doing such good work, both in Sokovia and in Lagos. So many innocent lives lost. Vienna was the final blow to push the Accords through, and had the added benefit of allowing _you_ to find The Soldier for me. He had some very important information I needed before I brought you all here."

Bucky blinked, and Stark turned to stare at him. "What information?" Bucky could only shake his head in bewilderment.

Steve broke in, "What did you mean about the Accords?"

"We wrote them."

Stark spun back toward Zemo, arm dropping in shock. "You what?" he breathed.

"The Avengers are too inconvenient to be left to their own devices, Mr. Stark. For as much destruction you have leveled, you've caused Hydra a great many more problems. So they are no longer going to be left to their own devices. And with the sudden hole in their leadership, they will be easily led."

"It won't work," Steve shook his head.

"Captain, I fail to see how you plan on stopping me."

"Friday," Stark said. "She's been recording this entire thing."

Zemo smiled. "My part in this is done, and I think you'll find that the satellite uplink to your AI was lost when the doors locked. You may have a local recording, but it won't be going anywhere." Zemo moved behind the glass, attention dropping to something behind the wall, and Bucky moved to cover Steve in an instant.

Zemo looked up again and smirked. "Have no fear, Soldier. _I_ am doing nothing. Only passing along the information you were kind enough to give me. Mr Stark, Captain Rogers, I have enjoyed our chat, but it is time for me to be on my way now. Goodbye."

After giving another smile, Zemo stepped away and lowered a monitor into place in the window. The sound of a gunshot and screeching tires was deafening, causing a squeal of feedback over the speakers that left everyone covering their ears on instinct. 

"Wait," Stark stepped closer to the window as a white car wrapped around a tree. "What is this?"

Bucky watched the screen as a man fell out of the front door, and a familiar figure approached him. The sick, sinking feeling filled his gut again, and he lowered his gun as he recognized himself on the screen. Then the fallen man confirmed it: "Sergeant Barnes?"

He wished he could look away, close his eyes and ignore the sound of metal against flesh, of the crush of bone as the him in the video punched the man until his head was a bloody pulp. Not listen to the quiet sound of weeping in the background, a woman's voice pleading "Howard? Howard?"

He wanted to be sick, to make everyone turn away. He knew Steve had faced him while he was under the control of Hydra, but being there, watching Steve _watch_ him as he did their work caused every half-remembered death to curdle in his gut. He wished he could turn himself in right there. He'd give himself to General Ross and tell him to do his worst.

He even wished, briefly, for the chair. This was a memory he'd give anything to lose.

"Mom?" Stark breathed, and Bucky blinked when he realized just how close Stark had gone to the monitor while Bucky had been watching Steve. "Mom!" 

Then Stark spun, and fired his repulsor directly at Bucky's chest. Bucky raised his arm on instinct, and it intercepted the blast, sending him flying backwards.

"Tony! No!" Steve ran between them, shield raised. Bucky pushed himself up to his knees, shaking the ringing from his head. His shoulder and back were sore where he'd twisted and hit the ground, but he knew he was well enough to protect Steve if Stark turned on him.

"Did you know?" Stark pointed behind him to where Bucky was shooting out the camera that had recorded everything.

"It wasn't him, Tony."

_"Did you know?"_ Tony repeated through clenched teeth.

Steve stood still a moment, and then his shoulders settled in a way that was intimately familiar. Bucky pushed himself up to standing, crouched and eyeing where he'd dropped his gun. "I knew."

Stark was still for a heartbeat, before he punched Steve hard enough to send him tumbling. Bucky leapt forward to cover Steve, even though Stark didn't seem to be paying Steve any mind. Instead, Stark leapt at him, grappling him down and attempting to fire another shot directly into Bucky's face. 

Bucky braced Stark's palm away as the beam shot out and scorched the concrete floor beside him. Then Steve was back, tackling Stark and rolling him off Bucky. "Go!"

Bucky pushed himself up, looking around. All the doors were locked, but when he looked up, he saw the controls to the ceiling of the silo many storeys above. He looked back at where Steve was wrestling Stark's arms to his side, but Steve yelled, "Get out!"

He paused another moment, but nodded, looking for the ladder to take him up to the top.

***

Steve lay flat on his back in the room he'd been given in Wakanda. He was exhausted, but his thoughts were too busy to rest. When he'd pulled the nearly-unconscious Bucky to one of the doors, surprised that it had opened at his touch, he'd been worried. When he'd seen T'Challa standing at the entrance to the base, he'd fiercely missed the weight of the shield. He could only place himself between Bucky and T'Challa and wait.

"Come with me, please." T'Challa beckoned them both toward a quinjet that was parked beside the one they'd arrived in.

Steve stood a moment, wavering. Everything hurt, but he wasn't willing to let Bucky go.

"Please. I must take Zemo to Vienna, and alert someone to Mr. Stark's presence inside, but I would extend to you both asylum in Wakanda. None will know you are there."

Steve glanced back to Bucky, whose pained expression was the only thing showing he remained conscious.

"Thank you," Steve said, and T'Challa joined him at Bucky's other side, leading them slowly into the quinjet.

He was fairly certain he'd slept sometime on the ride, holding Bucky tightly the entire time. He didn't remember landing in Vienna, only that when they'd stepped into the jet, Zemo was collapsed, bound, in the cargo bay, and when they'd arrived in Wakanda, he'd been gone.

"Your friend has unofficially been acquitted of the bombing in Vienna," T'Challa said once they'd arrived, medical staff scrambling around the bed holding Bucky. "You are both still in violation of the Accords. As are your friends." Steve turned to T'Challa at that, watching him watch Bucky. "They are being held in the Raft Prison."

Steve nodded slowly. "Does asylum stretch for them as well?"

T'Challa's mouth twitched, ever so slightly. "If they ask it of me, and knowing what I know now of the origins and purpose of the Accords? I believe they would make a solid case." He turned and started out of the room before pausing. "The quinjet is kept at all times where it landed, and we have coordinates for the location of the Raft on board. I am, of course, not telling you this for any specific reason."

Then T'Challa turned and faced Steve fully. "I have done your friend a great disservice, and I cannot do anything other than attempt to rectify it as best I can." He paused, and Steve felt himself straightening through the ache deep in his bones. "I believe in the need for oversight. But I can see the benefit in modifying the Accords to prevent the transfer of ultimate power from parties like the Avengers to groups with more specific agendas." He smiled, and Steve huffed a laugh. "I do not agree with you, Captain. But I believe cooperation between our thoughts will serve us best."

T'Challa turned away again, and Steve spoke. "Thank you. For… For all of this."

"Of course, Captain. I hope you enjoy your stay."

Steve turned back to watch as Bucky was treated. He lost track of time, coming back to himself when a gentle hand touched his arm, and a tall woman wearing all white led him to a second bed and began his own examination.

He didn't pay any attention as they splinted and bandaged and cleaned him, unable to tear his attention from Bucky's still form.

"You should rest," the doctor told him firmly, stepping directly into his sight line. 

"I'm okay."

"Captain Rogers," her voice was firm and rich and reminded him briefly of his mother. "You are very much not fine. You need a bed, and quiet. Your friend will doubtless not wake for hours, and you will be of no use to him if you collapse."

"But--"

"Danai will lead you to your room and will fetch you if there is a change in your friend's status."

Another tall woman approached him, beckoning him to follow. He'd left, because the doctors had closed ranks around Bucky, and now he was here in his room with nothing to distract him from his thoughts.

He rolled over, clutching a pillow over his head and burying his face in the mattress. He could focus on the Raft, checking the usual sources to know if Tony and Rhodey were going to be okay. He pushed himself up, crossing the room to where the large monitor filled one wall, and began to work.

***

Steve startled when a ringing tone sounded from the door. He looked around, surprised at the early morning sunlight streaming through his window. Then he remembered what the doctor had said, and realized what the tone likely meant.

Steve rushed to the door, opening it to see a man waiting outside. "Good morning, Captain Rogers. Mr. Barnes is awake and asking for you."

Steve nodded, nearly shoving the man aside in his rush to get out of his room and back to Bucky. He ran through the empty hallways, and finally burst through the door.

Bucky was lying, propped up on a stack of pillows and looking pale and washed out in the bright white of the room. 

"Buck…" he breathed, feeling his chest loosen when Bucky gave him a faint smile.

"Captain Rogers," the severe voice of the doctor brought him up short and he offered a sheepish smile. "I specifically remember instructing you to return to your room to rest. I am unaccustomed to having my orders ignored."

Bucky huffed a brief laugh, and Steve turned back to him with a smile. 

The doctor sighed. "I will give you two some privacy so I can sleep. Mr Barnes, you are to consider yourself still under observation for the next twelve hours."

Steve was barely aware of the sounds of the doctor's quiet footsteps, the almost silent noise of the door closing behind her. Bucky was watching him just as intently, and Steve stumbled forward until he was sitting beside him, hip pressed to hip.

"You look like shit," Bucky said, and Steve gave a pained laugh.

"So do you," Steve lied. He was staring, examining every healing mark on Bucky's face. He reached out, fingertips skirting the mottled bruising on Bucky’s cheek. "Fuck, Bucky," he sighed. 

Bucky’s smile softened at that. "You never were good at listening to doctor's orders." 

Steve laughed again. "Some things never change." Bucky’s gaze dropped, darting around the room, and Steve lowered his hand at the sudden awkwardness. "I... T'Challa knows where the others are. I'm going to go after them."

"When?"

Steve shifted uncomfortably. "The doctor is right, I do need to sleep first. But tonight or tomorrow, I'll go." 

Bucky nodded and Steve cast around for something to fill the silence. Before he could start babbling, Bucky spoke again. 

"You know, cryo isn't so bad, really. Not compared to the rest."

Steve's stomach swooped unpleasantly. He didn't know where Bucky was going with this, but knew he wouldn't like it. "No. No I didn't."

"Because it's really the best way," Bucky continued in a rush. 

"Best way to what?" Steve interrupted, barely able get the words out past the tightness in his throat. 

"It's like going to sleep. No dreams," Bucky continued, eyes looking everywhere but at Steve. 

"Buck…" 

Bucky’s mouth shut with a snap and he took a slow breath. "I can't. I can't be him again. I can't do it." 

"So you're just going to put yourself in cryo again indefinitely?" 

Steve's voice broke on the words, and Bucky finally looked at him. He wasn't sure what Bucky saw, his love, or his fear, or the looming feeling of always losing Bucky, but Bucky’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped in surprise. 

"We… I thought you..." Bucky took a shaking breath. "Steve. I didn't. You." 

"I love you."

"Steve…" Bucky shook his head. "I…"

"I love you," Steve insisted. "I think I always have."

"I'm not him. I'm not even _me_."

"You're you."

"But I'm not!" Bucky covered his face with his remaining hand. "What they did to me will always be there. And they'll always be able to turn me off, turn me into him."

Steve tried to breathe, but his chest felt too tight. He tried to speak, but he couldn't get any words out. Finally he reached out, gently squeezing Bucky's arm. Bucky looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed.

"I'm sorry," Steve finally managed. "I didn't mean to put this on you."

"No. Steve, no."

"This doesn't have to change anything. I just… I'm so… I don't want to lose you again."

Bucky surged forward, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders and pulling his head into the familiar crook of Bucky's neck. Steve inhaled deeply, clutching Bucky close. "No. I'm sorry. I…" Bucky pressed a kiss to his temple, and it was like they were still back in Brooklyn. "Not forever. I want the words gone."

Steve squeezed tighter, until Bucky nudged him back, eyes tracing over Steve's face with an intensity that he could feel scorching his skin. "You're so dumb. Of course I've always loved you."

The tingling ache in his chest was back, but he laughed. "Jerk."

Bucky's smile softened, fingers tracing the short hairs on the back of Steve's neck. Then he lifted his chin, leaning in and brushing his nose softly against Steve's cheek. A sob caught in Steve's throat before he nudged forward as well, until his lips were brushing against Bucky's. They stayed there a moment, sharing air, before Bucky gave the slightest squeeze of his fingers, a barely-there encouragement to lean in more, to push forward until their lips slotted together.

Steve climbed up on the bed and swung his leg over Bucky's lap, all without breaking the kiss. He slid his hands up, tracing the sharp line of Bucky's jaw, teasing the sensitive skin beneath his ear before finally tangling in his hair.

Bucky groaned into his mouth, hand pulling them tighter together. Then it was Steve's turn to moan as Bucky teased his lip with a hint of tongue. Steve rocked forward as he opened, welcoming Bucky's tongue into his mouth. Bucky's breathing hitched, and he arched into Steve's movement.

Steve pulled away, staring a moment at Bucky's flushed face. "This wasn't really how I planned this." He let his fingers wander, across the rough stubble of Bucky's cheek before catching and dragging slightly on the damp scarlet of his lip.

"You had a plan?" Bucky blinked lazily up at him, and Steve leaned in again for another brief kiss.

"Shut up. I'm a brilliant tactician."

Bucky snorted something that could have been a laugh had Steve not kissed him again. As it was, he took the opportunity to slide his own tongue forward, tracing the seam of Bucky's lips and slipping barely inside. 

Bucky's mouth tasted stale and sour, but it was the best thing Steve could remember. He moaned again, and Bucky's hand clutched at him, trying to pull them closer together. Steve rocked forward, this time with intent, dragging his heavy cock against where he could feel Bucky hard as well, even through the sheets.

"Wait. Wait." Steve broke the kiss, pulling the covers down and reaching for Bucky's pants before he paused. "This okay?"

Bucky groaned, letting his head fall forward into Steve's chest. "Fuck. Yes."

Steve didn't waste any time, fumbling into the loose elastic and wrapping his hand around Bucky's cock, hot and hard in his hand.

Bucky hissed as Steve gave an experimental tug, pulling the foreskin back and watching the flushed head peek through. 

"Steve," Bucky breathed, eyes closed and jaw tight. 

"Yeah?" Steve pulled again, unable to look away from Bucky's cock, watching as his hips gave tiny helpless thrusts underneath him.

"Steve," Bucky repeated, more insistent. "Steve…" Bucky's hand dropped, tugging at Steve's pants as well. "Give a guy a hand, will ya?"

Steve laughed. "Oh god. Did you just make a hand joke?"

He looked at Bucky's face, flushed with arousal, and he leaned in to kiss him again. He kept the slow movement of his hand, until he felt Bucky's own grip tight around his cock through his pants, and his rhythm stuttered.

Bucky's head collapsed back on the pillows, breaking the kiss. "Get your pants off."

"Get _your_ pants off," Steve retorted. Then he decided that was the best plan, climbing off Bucky long enough to strip them both. "Glad the bed's strong enough for two."

But Bucky was staring at him. "I honestly thought I'd imagined it."

"What?"

"The giant dicks you made."

"Oh my god."

"To scale."

Steve could feel the flush burning in his cheeks, and he covered his face. "You're a jerk."

Bucky laughed, bright and open, and Steve dropped his hands to smile at him. He knew he looked like a besotted idiot, but he didn't care. He climbed back on the bed, leaning in to kiss Bucky again, amazed that he _could_.

"I'm gonna talk to Wanda. And Nat and Clint. They'll have ideas how to help you."

Bucky's smile was weak. "You'll have to get them first."

Steve smiled, feeling the stirrings of certainty he hadn't felt since the entire situation exploded. "That's the part I'm least worried about."

Bucky watched him a moment before something in his face relaxed and he reached towards Steve. Steve eagerly leaned in for more kisses. "I want to do this forever," he breathed into Bucky's mouth, feeling the clutch of Bucky's fingers on his shoulder before they slowly slid down his chest and then further, wrapping around his cock.

"Fuck, Steve," Bucky's voice was breathless and strained, but his hand was already starting a steady pull. Steve groaned low in his throat at the feel of skin on skin. He reached for Bucky's cock with one hand, the other busy tracing all of Bucky within his reach.

Bucky moaned, and his hand sped up. Steve found himself matching the pace, groaning into the kiss. "Gonna do this every day," he pulled away enough to say. "Too much time being stupid. Could have been doing this."

Bucky gave a choked off laugh, his hips juddering as his cock jerked in Steve's hand, and he spent hot and wet between Steve's fingers. Steve loosened his grip, but continued to stroke him through the pulses, not even noticing Bucky's hand had stopped moving until it started again. Then, Bucky pulled with a relentless pace that quickly had Steve's balls drawing tight to his body, and he spilled harder than he could remember doing before.

Bucky kept a gentle grip on his cock, even as he nudged in for another kiss, slow and sleepy soft. Steve curled up beside him in the bed, as they kissed, wrapping himself tightly around Bucky, like he would never let go.

"I love you," Bucky murmured against his mouth.

Steve's chest expanded like his first deep breath after the serum. "I love you. We'll fix this."

Bucky buried his head under Steve's chin. "But until then… Gotta think of everyone else."

Steve's grip went tighter, clutching, but he forced himself to breathe again. Finally, he nodded. "Just need to work fast, is all. I'm not giving up on you, Buck. And I'm not letting them take you."

Bucky didn't say anything, but his arm tightened around Steve, and Steve felt himself beginning to drift, pulled by exhaustion and the slowly fading tingles of orgasm. Bucky's head grew heavier on his chest, and he finally let himself sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut makes everything better, yes? No?


	6. Imagine the Google Searches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically just you all sitting in on a conversation between firethesound and myself when we're together for more than an hour. See what you're missing?

Things had settled down in the two years since Bucky had come out of cryo for the last time. In the beginning, things had been awkward at best, and it had taken a full year of working together before Bucky had started finally thinking Stark might not shoot him in the back as soon as it was turned.

Unfortunately, Stark seemed to have only two settings: trying to kill him and attempting to rehabilitate him into a _"normal member of society,"_ which as far as Bucky could tell, was just an excuse for lots of parties and movie nights during downtime.

Sometimes that worked out better than others….

"There's just something so pure and noble about curling, okay Sam?" Steve flung a hand out, gesturing widely at the entertainment center and the wall around it. "These people aren't doing it for fame or money. They're doing it because they love their sport. Shut up and stop laughing, it is so a sport."

Bucky rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his tablet. Steve was getting perilously close to overdoing things and there was only so far he could push his enthusiasm before Sam realized that Steve was partially pulling one over on him.

Which wasn't to say that Steve was _lying_. Steve's love of curling was something Bucky neither understood nor really wanted to. He'd gotten into it after waking up from the ice, getting mad at the Dodgers and all the changes to baseball in the intervening decades. As far as Bucky can tell, he'd started watching curling during the Sochi Olympics just to be a shit, and had never really stopped.

He'd convinced Friday to put out alerts, queueing up replays from YouTube, public access television, and Canadian sports specials. They'd even drove the three and a half hours to Whitesboro several times to watch the bonspiels.

Bucky twitched at actually knowing what a bonspiel was.

And now, they're sitting in the media room of Avengers Complex for the big TV, watching the Pyeongchang Games, and Bucky is questioning his life choices.

"Whatever man," Wilson waved a hand through his laughter, "it's a bunch of old guys with brooms on a skating rink."

Steve made a noise of frustration that almost made Bucky look, but then Stark came into the room talking loudly at Clint behind him.

"No this is going to be _amazing_ just watch." 

Stark moved to position himself between Steve and the TV, placing a large documents box on the coffee table and ignoring the frown Steve leveled on him. 

"I was watching that!"

Stark waved a hand, "No but see, this is _good_. Just wait. Friday, where is everyone?"

"Ms. Romanoff is currently in her rooms and has asked that I tell you that she doesn't care what you have, she's not interested. Vision is downstairs and has asked to not be disturbed. No one else is at the facility."

"What? No! I need an audience! Make Nat come up!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir." Friday replied, sounding completely unapologetic.

Bucky sent a questioning look to where Clint was leaning on the back of his couch, but was met with a blank shrug in reply.

"Tony," Steve was leaned over Wilson's lap trying to see the TV. "Move."

"Curling, man," Wilson grinned at Stark. "You know Steve and curling."

Stark twitched, and Bucky let his tablet fall to the couch beside him. "It _is_ the only sport designed to be played while holding a beer," he offered. Steve made another annoyed noise and Bucky shrugged. Whatever Stark wanted, it already looked more interesting than the games.

"Natasha's gonna be so mad she's missing out," Stark muttered. Then he looked up, starting his usual pacing. "Fine. Fine. So! I was going through some things the other day and I found something that will change everyone's perception of Cap for all time."

Bucky blinked. "That's _it_?" He glanced around, and everyone else seemed to be giving Stark the same blank look Bucky could feel on his own face.

"Yeah, what did you find?" Clint scratched his head. "We've all seen the porn, already."

"Wait, what?" Steve blinked. "Porn?"

"Lookalike porn. Google it. Stark made us all watch it when you were still in DC. So it's not like it's even _you_."

Bucky cackled, already liking the direction of this conversation. "Who'd he fuck?"

"Everyone." Stark replied, brightening. He began counting off on his fingers, "Carter, you, the rest of the Commandos, Phillips…."

"Oh god," Steve muttered, face buried in his hands, ears and neck visibly scarlet. 

"What are you blushing for?" Wilson prodded Steve with a toe, ignoring the swat he got in return. "Not like we haven't seen your _actual_ pasty white ass plenty of times anyway."

"Don't usually catch him fucking Barnes, though," Clint chipped in.

Bucky tossed a pillow at Clint's head, which was ignored.

"That's beside the point!" Stark shouted and held up his hands, attempting to drag attention back to himself. "But Friday, remind me to show the Star Spangled Man his porno next time."

"Of course, Mr. Stark."

"But! I was going through some of dear-old-dad's things from the war, and you'll never guess what I came across."

Bucky felt his eyebrows shoot up. Howard was still a very sensitive subject for Tony, one that Steve and Bucky took great pains to avoid mentioning. This was likely the first time Tony had mentioned him in their presence since SIberia.

Then Tony opened the box and pulled out a very familiar looking cock. "Ta-da!"

There was a moment of silence before Wilson asked, "Did you really just say 'ta-da'?"

"Shut up! Do you know what this is?"

Bucky gave one look at the horror-filled expression on Steve's face and burst out laughing.

"Oh good! The popsicles recognize it! I have to admit, I kinda wondered…."

"Wondered what?" Clint asked.

"If it was… authentic." Stark began pacing, absently waving the cock around as he continued. "Dear old dad had this carefully boxed and labeled." He held up a finger. " _One replica Captain America's penis, made by Captain America, circa 1944._ Of course I had to know…."

"Why does that change people's opinions on me?" Steve asked, the familiar divot between his eyebrows growing as he watched Stark pace even as his face still flushed red with embarrassment. 

"Well, I mean… Captain America has a big dick?"

"Props to the Buckster," Clint grinned and tossed the pillow back at Bucky.

Bucky shot Clint a look as Steve continued, still wearing his serious Captain America face. "But don't you wonder why your _dad_ kept it?"

Tony's fidgeting paused as he turned to look at Steve, and Bucky stifled a grin as he realized what Steve was doing.

"I mean, was he fucking Howard in that porno?" Bucky asked, his expression carefully neutral.

Stark turned slightly green. "This is an explosive. I had it analyzed."

Steve leaned close. "Trophy," he whispered.

Stark squawked and quickly placed the cock back in the box, hurrying out of the room. "Oh my god. No. No. I'm not. No."

Bucky and Steve shared a smirk across the room. "You got him."

Steve nodded. "I did."

***

Steve smirked as Tony threw his arms up and walked away when he saw Steve enter the compound.

"You don't have to act so smug. It's not like he even _believes_ you anymore." Bucky muttered behind him. "You know that, right?"

Steve snorted. "Of course I know that. He doesn't have to believe me. He just has to picture it in his head."

Bucky passed him, bumping his shoulder as he did so. "You really want Stark picturing you naked that badly?"

Steve felt his own face screw up as Bucky grinned over his shoulder. "You're welcome."

"You're a jerk!" Steve shouted after him, as he continued in the direction Tony had gone. Bucky waved silver fingers without turning around.

Steve laughed, making his own way slowly through the complex. He'd not gone far, not even halfway to the training room, when Sam fell in beside him. "You know, this is gonna blow up in your face. Tony's gonna look at you and see his dad naked and shoot you in the face. And nobody's gonna blame him."

Steve shook his head. "Bucky's already gotten me good."

"Oh?" Sam raised an eyebrow, then nudged Steve elbow when he didn't reply. "What did Barnes say?"

"Pointed out that Stark's also picturing _my_ dick with his dad. And just. Howard." Steve shuddered and Sam burst out laughing.

"Point to Barnes. Don't tell him I said that."

Steve shook his head. "I'm not getting in the middle of one of your pissing matches."

"Pissing matches?" Sam gave a loud fake gasp, and then he shouted, " _Barnes!_ Did you hear what Steve said about us?"

"You probably deserved it!" Bucky shouted back.

"Okay, does _anybody_ actually use the _very expensive_ comms I installed throughout the building so people didn't have to shout all the time?" Tony burst in over the speaker, sounding aggrieved. 

"No," everyone answered at once.

"Fine. Fuck you all, too. Avengers Assemble or something. We've got aliens in South Florida for god knows what reason, and I've got details up in the quinjet."

Steve grinned at Sam as he took off at a jog. "Keep up, will ya?"

"I hate your face." Sam muttered as he ran after him. "I miss Natasha. She needs to get back from the Bahamas or wherever she's gone _on a mission, my ass_ and take you guys down a peg."

"Aw, Sam, don't be mad. Just because you run like an old man…."

"We picking on Wilson?" Bucky asked eagerly. "Please say we're picking on Wilson."

"Hey, fuck you. Fuck you both." Sam hissed through clenched teeth as they jogged up the ramp into the quinjet.

"Oh god, no please don't encourage them," Tony said, already in his Iron Man suit. "I don't want them fucking in the quinjet or in the complex or anywhere else I have to think about and may accidentally walk in on. Friday, to Miami."

"Would we do that?" Bucky asked as the quinjet took off, and Steve snickered at the faux-innocent big-eyed look he gave Tony.

Tony glared at them both. "I'm with Wilson. I hate both of you."

"You love his di--" Bucky started.

"Finish that sentence, and I will modify your arm so hard you won't recognize it."

Sam sighed. "Why do I always have to be the adult here? Aliens?"

"Right. Aliens. Florida is weird, but apparently overgrown lizardmen the newest thing." Tony began the briefing, pulling up pictures of what looked like blue bipedal alligators on the streets of Miami.

"You've got to be kidding me," Steve sighed. "Really?"

"'Fraid so, Cap." Tony grinned. 

"What are they even doing?" Bucky leaned in, peering at one of the images.

"Shopping? I don't know, it's a Tiffany's, maybe they're getting married."

"I can't believe this," Sam said. "Can't local law enforcement deal?"

"No can do. Poisonous. Or venomous. Or both? Don't get bit, don't get bled on."

Steve shared a look with Bucky, lips twitching in a smile. The entire situation was just too ridiculous. 

"Bet I can get more than you," he said.

"Oh yeah? What'll you give me when I win?" Bucky countered.

"No!" Sam interrupted. "No foreplay during a mission. We are in the air, we're officially on a mission, I don't want to be stuck at 30,000 feet with you two going at it."

"Not to mention the size of Steve's dick would put Barnes out of operation for… What? You were thinking it?"

"You were literally the only person thinking about the size of Steve's dick," Sam said.

"Not true, I was totally thinking about Steve's dick." Bucky countered with a grin.

Steve cursed the flush on his cheeks. "Maybe I should leave you guys to this conversation without me. I'll go fly the quinjet or something."

"No!" Bucky and Sam yelled, leaving Tony to blink at them.

"We are not putting the man who flew an airplane into the ocean in charge of flying." Sam said.

"Steve isn't allowed to drive anything. Ever." Bucky nodded.

"Hey!" Steve frowned. "I can drive. I'm an excellent driver."

"No. You aren't." Sam frowned at Steve and Steve let his jaw jut out stubbornly. "You're a crap driver."

"I have no idea what you three are talking about, but I have to admit I'm curious," Tony interrupted. "Cap, you and me, after this alien lizards thing is done with, we'll go for a drive. I can't believe you're as bad as all that."

"Believe it," Bucky muttered, nudging Sam.

Steve frowned sharply at both of them. "Tony, you're my new best friend. I don't want those two anymore."

Sam raised a fist to Bucky, who bumped it. Steve rolled his eyes, and Tony said, "Don't worry, Cap. I think you still have the advantage over Wilson for Barnes's affections."

"If you're going to make a joke about my penis…"

"What? No. Star-crossed love over decades. Murders, freezing, taking out Hydra bases and lizards…"

"Aw, Tony. That was actually sweet," Sam laughed. "I almost believed it."

"Hey, trying to be a bro and save you from the jealous boyfriend."

"I'm not a jealous boyfriend. You know what? I'm gonna go sit in the front and you can take care of the aliens all on your own. I don't care anymore."

Steve turned and walked out of the command room and to the cockpit of the quinjet, flopping down in one of the seats and watching the ocean speed by beneath them.

"Aw, Stevie, don't be like that." Bucky stuck his head in through the doorway, smiling at Steve. "You can drive my car any day."

Steve rolled his eyes. "One, you don't have a car. Two, you think I don't know that you mean your dick."

Bucky swung a leg over and straddled Steve's lap, brushing a chaste kiss to his lips. "I know you know I mean my dick."

"Oh my god!" Tony shouted from the doorway. "No sex in the quinjet!"

Steve buried his face in Bucky's chest, unable to stop laughing.

***

In the end, they had sex in the Avenger's Complex only once that night, and calling it sex might have been overstating the case. It had been a long day fighting aliens, followed by a longer night where Stark had insisted on everyone staying and eating and drinking until the early hours of the morning.

Steve and Bucky had made it back to the room Stark had insisted they take for those nights when returning home was a hassle, swearing up and down it was only gathering dust (not that anything there ever acquired _dust_ ) and collapsed in a giggling pile on the bed. They weren't drunk of course; Thor was off in Asgard, and Stark still hadn't managed to find the middle ground between _can't feel it_ and _unconsious_.

Bucky leaned in, nuzzling into Steve's jaw, relaxing for the first time that evening. He knew it things were better, but he still carried tension when Stark was around. Probably not enough for anyone but Steve to notice. They'd stumbled through the dark room, giggling and kissing, shedding clothes in a clumsy trail until they reached the bedroom. Bucky felt giddy with relief, and he shoved Steve backwards until Steve toppled onto the bed and Bucky could crawl on top of him, tonguing his way up the tight planes of Steve's chest and rocking down against the large bulge of Steve's cock.

Steve gasped, before reaching up, clutching Bucky tightly to him and nudging until they were kissing once again. Bucky lost himself in the feeling of Steve's mouth against his, of the faint taste of beer lingering on his tongue. He moaned in spite of himself, hips rocking down into Steve's again, and Steve's fingers clenched against Bucky's hips, bringing them closer together.

"Fuck," Steve breathed against his mouth, and Bucky pulled away enough to take in the flush spilling across Steve's face. He leaned in again, brushing his mouth against Steve's in the same movement as he rocked against Steve's cock, and the noise Steve made at that caused Bucky's balls to tighten.

They'd just established a rhythm of gasps and moans, moving against each other on top of the bedclothes, when there was an explosion from the wall over the bed. Steve clutched at Bucky, holding his pillow over their heads like a shield, as sparkling… somethings rained down on top of them and _"Stars and Stripes Forever"_ began blasting at a deafening volume. 

"What the fuck?" Bucky blinked down at Steve, gaping. "Seriously, what the fuck?"

"Friday! Lights!" Steve shouted. "And kill the music!"

The lights rose to a comfortable glow, but the volume remained slightly above deafening. "Friday?"

"I'm sorry, Sir." The voice of the AI was barely audible above the shrieking piccolo. "I'm not able to adjust the volume at this time."

Bucky pushed himself up, uncomfortably aware of the itchy… something covering his back, and he reached back to brush it off, frowning as he sat back on Steve's lap.

Steve sat up and looked around, before peering with a frown at the bed beside him. Then his cheeks flushed scarlet and he collapsed back again, covering his face in his hands. "Oh my god, I'm going to kill him."

"Wha--?" Bucky started, but then he saw what was covering the bed, and he collapsed beside Steve in laughter. The bed was sparkling with glitter, which doubtless covered Bucky as well, and was littered with hundreds of red, white, and blue confetti penises.

"Oh god!" Bucky shoved at Steve, gasping for breath. "Confetti penises."

"Shut up," Steve said, voice muffled under his hands. 

"No, Steve. Steve." Bucky tugged at Steve's arms, pulling his hands away from his face. "Confetti penises."

"I'm going to confetti your penis," Steve muttered at him, face still a livid red.

Bucky closed his eyes, rolling back onto the mess on the bed as he laughed harder than he could remember having done since Steve was set in charge of crafting the penises in the first place. When he was able to catch his breath, he said, "This was Stark's revenge, you know. For traumatizing him with that dick you made."

Steve thwacked him in the face with a pillow and Bucky fumbled blindly, metal fingers twisting in the cloth before Steve could bring it down again. The bed shifted, and his head thumped against the mattress as Steve grabbed his pillow from under his head as well, walloping him with it.

"Hey!" Bucky laughed, tugging on the pillow still half in his left hand, attempting to block another hit with his right. "That one's mine!"

Steve leaned over him, face flushed and smiling. Bucky felt his stomach swoop at the expression on Steve's face, free and joyful and more than a bit ornery, before Steve jerked the pillow Bucky was holding, sending an rain of feathers everywhere as the fabric caught in his grip and the pillow ripped in half. He used the distraction of the sudden feather shower to catch Bucky three more times with the pillow he was still holding, and Bucky once again found himself helpless with laughter. 

Steve leaned in, kissing him softly on the mouth through his giggles, and he became aware of the silence in the room. 

"Music stopped."

Steve leaned down again, his kiss this time lingering. "Yeah."

Bucky kissed him back a moment before shoving him away again. "What do you think are the chances he's got it programmed to go again?"

Steve paused, brow furrowing. "We could try another room."

"We could try _his_ room. Let him see the real thing. Finally."

Steve gave Bucky his patented Captain America Is Disappointed face, and Bucky lost it again. "We can't do anything until we get rid of this shit anyway." Bucky squirmed a bit, grimacing at the feeling of the tissue paper clinging to his skin and the glitter working its way into every crevice. 

Steve sighed. "He _probably_ didn't do anything to the bathroom."

"I'll take probably over definitely," Bucky grinned. "Shower?"

Steve practically flung himself out of bed, hand tight around Bucky's wrist as he dragged him after. "Shower," he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. This was a journey through 6 months of burnout and I'm completely shocked it's done. 
> 
> Once again, huge thanks to firethesound, blithelybonny, capitu, littleblackfox, lauren3210, for love, support, ass kicking, beta reading, idea bouncing, and generally being awesome during the past (many) months. This wouldn't exist without you and I am so grateful.
> 
> To everyone who has read, kudo'd, commented, bookmarked, you are amazing. You're the ones who keep the world going round. Thank you. <3
> 
> (also, wtf no blowjobs in this fic? I am shocked at myself. Shocked and disappointed. WHO AM I EVEN ANYMORE?)
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://eidheann.tumblr.com/).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [VID: Grand Theft Hydra](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169319) by [mithborien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithborien/pseuds/mithborien)




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